


BATIM Inktober

by phantomthief_fee



Series: BATIM Drabbles [5]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: BATIM Chapter 5 spoilers, BATIM Inktober, Inktober, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-25 03:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 26,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16189037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: Basically me doing some BATIM Inktober prompts





	1. Inky Mess & Cardboard Cutout

I decided to do the BATIM Inktober prompts, specifically this [one](http://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/178647979115/metamatronic-askdaddybendy-i-thought-id-make), and have been working on them since yesterday. But then I saw @halfusek ‘s amazing comic, [here](https://halfusek.tumblr.com/post/178556497824/cut-out-part-1), and I wanted to write something for it. Luckily prompts 1 and 3 are Inky Mess and Cardboard Cutout, which work really well.

I doubt I can do the comic justice, it’s just so amazing, but I’m going to try.

* * *

_She hated those cutouts. They were a constant reminder of her imperfection, her failure._ _He’d promised her. He’d said she’d be perfect. She’d be an angel._

##  _**He’d promised.** _

Susie had trusted Joey Drew, once upon a time. They’d all trusted him. Even after Henry had left, when Joey’s true cruelty began to shine through, she’d still trusted him. She’d believed the lies that dripped from his silver tongue, consuming all the poison he gave her until she was no longer herself. After she’d lost the role of Alice, she’d been distraught. She’d thought her life was over. Alice had been her first taste of success, her first chance to become something more than she’d ever been before. Alice was a part of her. She’d heard talk from the other members of the studio of how Henry had talked about Boris and Bendy being like his children, and in the beginning, she hadn’t understood how anyone could become so attached to a fictional character. 

She’d expected to voice bit roles for Joey Drew, nothing special of course. There weren’t too many female characters in the cartoons, and those that were voiced already had actresses to their name. Then Joey had come to her with a proposition. He was going to create a new character to introduce to the Bendy universe, and he wanted Susie to voice her. 

“I can think of no one else who would do her justice.” He’d told her. She remembered how delighted she’d been. Alice would be the first Joey Drew Studios cartoon to be voiced and Susie would be the one to do it! 

“You deserve it.” Sammy had told her. “No one else can hold a candle to you when it comes to your voice.” He’d always known what to say. It was a pity their relationship hadn’t lasted. But that wasn’t what this was about. This was about her and Joey.

For a little while, they’d all been happy. Or maybe that was just her naivete speaking.  _She’d_  been happy. She loved voicing Alice more than she’d ever enjoyed any other role she’d taken. She started thinking of Alice as a part of her. Sammy had tried to remind her that it was just a role, but she hadn’t listened. She’d truly been in Heaven. There had been signs, though, looking back. Alice hadn’t been as popular as Joey had hoped she’d be. The toys were selling, sure, and people were coming to see the cartoons, but Joey was spending money faster than any of them could make it back. Susie had noticed, of course. You had to be blind not to. Still, she chose to ignore the general misery that permeated the studio. Then she’d walked into the recording booth to find Sammy and Allison together. This in itself wasn’t necessarily something unusual. Allison worked in the music department, after all. But she had no reason to be in the recording booth. She didn’t do voice work. 

“What’s going on?” Susie asked. She already had a sinking feeling that something was wrong. 

“Oh, hello Miss Campbell.” Guilt flashed across Allison’s face. Susie felt her heartbeat beginning to speed up. 

“Sammy?” She looked over to him, trying to smile. “Why are you both here? I’m supposed to be recording lines right now.”

“Joey didn’t tell you?” Sammy asked. “Allison’s voicing Alice now.” She should have blamed Joey for this. She should have gone and yelled at him. He was the one who was responsible for their assignments, after all. But instead, she screamed at Sammy, Allison, anyone but Joey. When she finally made her way to Joey’s office, he took her in his arms and assured her that he hadn’t wanted to replace her.  

“You’ll always be Alice Angel in my eyes,” he’d said. “This is just an experiment. To see if her popularity will increase with a new voice. No one could ever replace you.” 

His smile had been so comforting, his voice so sweet. Despite herself, she’d believed him. She shouldn’t have trusted him. But she had. And when he told her that he would give her the chance to actually become Alice, she’d instantly agreed. 

When the day had come to go through with it, though, she’d begun to have second thoughts. Was this really worth it? Did she really want to give up her whole life for this role? She sat on the operating table, gripping the side of the table so tight her knuckles were turning white. 

“I’m…I’m just not so sure about this anymore.” She admitted. 

“It will be fine.” Joey cupped her face in his hands, smiling disarmingly. That smile of his…It was always enough to convince her of anything. 

_How she’d come to hate that smile_

“Will it hurt?” She asked as he strapped her down. Her heart was beginning to pound. She couldn’t look at the tools Joey had laid out. There were knives, thread, needles. It looked as though he was about to perform surgery. 

“It will.” Joey nodded, putting on some gloves. “But don’t worry, my dear, it won’t last long. And when it’s over, you’ll be an angel!“

He’d told her it was her choice. She didn’t have to do it, of course. But did she want to be replaced again? The thought was enough to almost drive her to the verge of tears. No. She didn’t want anyone to replace her ever again. Alice was hers! 

“I know.” His smile had been gentle, but looking back she could see the self-satisfaction in his gaze. “You’ll always be Alice to me.”

It had hurt. More than anything she’d ever experienced before. She screamed, cried, begged for mercy she knew wouldn’t come. The knives cut into her soft flesh, opening her up to the world. She didn’t want this anymore. Through it all, Joey smiled down at her, telling her to focus. As her vision began to blur and the world around her began to darken, Joey morphed into Bendy, his ever-present smile wide before everything was black.

_Then there was darkness. She didn’t know where she was, who she was. Someone was calling a name._

_Alice…_

_Alice?_

_The name sounded so familiar to her. She knew who that was, didn’t she?_

_Who’s Alice?  
_

_Alice…_

_Oh!_

_Alice!_

_**I’m**  Alice!_

_That was right! **She**  was Alice! She was Alice Angel. She felt relief and delight wash over her. She was Alice Angel! But where was she? She was supposed to be somewhere, she was sure of it. Someone was calling for her. Suddenly, there was light before her. She needed to go to the light. She wasn’t sure how she knew this, but she did. She reached out toward it. Her hand broke through. _

_**No. I’m Susie.** _

_**N̶̴͘͟O͏͡!** She shrieked, pushing herself into the light. **I̡'͏͢M̢ ̛͢A҉҉LI̛͠C̷͡E̡͞ AN̴͝G̵̕E͏L͘͡!̷̨͠**_

Everything she’d seen when she’d first emerged from the ink was a blur in her memories. There had been people standing in a circle around her. Even if they hadn’t been wearing masks, she doubted she would have been able to remember their faces. One had stepped forward, taking her face in one hand. She knew him. His voice was familiar. Then she’d been put in a cage. She didn’t know who she was, where she was. But she knew singing made her happy. So she sang in her cage. It was the only thing that kept her going. Sometimes, the smiling man visited her. The smiling man was nice. He spoke kindly to her and gave her things to eat. 

“It will make you strong.” He told her, giving her the plate. He’d given her hearts to eat. The hearts of failed ink creatures. She knew now what it was she’d been given, but at the time she hadn’t understood nor had she cared. 

Time passed and she was reborn once more. But this time…This time she was perfect. She was Alice Angel, through and through. She was beautiful, she was perfect. Everyone was delighted by this result. They’d praised her, told her how amazing she was, how perfect. She had what she wanted. She was Alice Angel! But Joey hadn’t been satisfied. No matter what she did, it never seemed to be enough for him. Still, she believed he cared for her. She followed his every order. Even up until he himself went through the Ink Machine. 

She’d stood in front of it, waiting for him to come back out. When he’d emerged, looking nothing like the cartoon he was supposed to be embodying, she hadn’t panicked. She knew what it was like to be imperfect. She pitied him. 

_But it wasn’t perfection he’d been after. He wasn’t like her. He never had been_

_She couldn’t believe she’d ever felt empathy for him. When she remembered the scene now…Seeing him in pain delighted her._

He’d been a pitiful sight, wandering about aimlessly. He’d been lost, pathetic, a far cry from the confident and self-assured man who had manipulated and abused so many. It hadn’t been what he’d expected, that was for certain. She hadn’t known what to expect either. She wanted to help him, but she knew things wouldn’t work the way they had for her. He certainly wasn’t going to allow himself to be put in a cage. 

“S͜u̴s͏i͞e? S̷us̷ie?” He’d called out for her, his voice strange and garbled. 

“I’m here.” She’d opened her arms for him, letting him draw closer. 

_You can’t lie here. I saw your soul and thoughts and you saw mine. Our…imperfections didn’t matter. Our identity didn’t matter. Human? Cartoon? You dropped the facade. I thought I could as well._

He’d laid a hand on her cheek and she’d smiled. Everything was going to be alright. It was all going to be worth it. 

_That was supposed to be it. The end of pain. Our dream…_

_Our_

_Dream_

_**D̨͞O҉͜N̶̴̶'T͝ ̶̡͞T̴̵O̴U͏Ç̸͠H ME̴͟!̡͡**   
_

She’d been wrong about him. His touch had ruined her, taken away her perfection. She’d screamed, running away in tears at the sight of what was truly in his soul. He’d tried to call out, tried to go after her, but his words devolved into mindless screams. This wasn’t what he’d expected. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. In the end, he’d lost himself within the ink. He couldn’t crawl his way out, not like she did. 

When she’d first encountered one of those damn cutouts after he’d ruined her…All she could see was his smile. His smile as his promises fell through, as his lies consumed her. 

_His smile as she tore him apart_

As he wandered, unable to recall who he was and in pain from the destruction of one of his effigies, she smiled to herself. 

_How is it? Being the one suffering? Because I will make you suffer._

_**O͝H̨̢ ̸̢I̷̢ H̴͞A̸̷͡V̸E͞ ̷͟A͜҉N̨̕ E҉T̨E̢͟R̢N͜IT͢͝Y̨ F̴̢Ǫ̵͢R ҉T̴H̛͡͝A̡Ţ̵** _


	2. Prayers In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertrum decides maybe he'd like to pray for once

Bertram Piedmont had never been a religious man. He’d seen how religion had destroyed the relationship between his sister and their parents. Their religious fervor had driven her to run away to America with the man who’d gotten her pregnant, who’d left her almost as soon as they got off the boat. She’d met someone else and was now happily settled, but it was undeniable that the actions of their parents had pushed Charlotte to do things she normally never would have. Besides, he had no interest in currying favor with a man in the sky he could neither see nor speak to. Bertram believed in concrete things. Things he could touch and interact with. He believed in hard work and perseverance. But now…Now that he was trapped inside his own creation, doomed to an existence as a creature of ink…He rather felt like praying.

He’d heard that man Lawrence preaching to other survivors in the rooms nearby. At first, Bertram had scoffed at hearing this. What use was faith in a situation like this? Perhaps that had simply been his hatred for his parents talking. They were long dead now, yet they still haunted him. The longer he was trapped in his ride, the more he found himself listening to the sermons Sammy occasionally gave to his followers. Bertram didn’t particularly feel like bowing down and worshipping the Ink Demon, but he did start remembering back to his time in church when he’d been a child. Not everyone who’d been involved in the religion he now so loathed had been as terrible as his parents. There had been a woman at the church who played the organ who had always been kind to him and his sister. While his parents had used religion to justify their supposed superiority, the organ lady had used religion to try and spread kindness and love.

_“The good Lord didn’t put us on this Earth to fight each other.”_  She’d told him and Charlotte once.  _“We’re all God’s children and He loves us, no matter what we look like or what we do.”_ While he didn’t completely want to follow her advice on that subject, especially after what Joey had done to him, he did like the idea of a loving and kind God, one who was always watching over him. He took a shaky breath, casting his eyes skyward.

“Lord…” He said quietly. “I…I’m not sure if you can hear me, nor if you even care, but…I want to ask something of you.” No one answered him. The only sound was that of dripping ink and the constant whir of his own machinery.

“Please…Please keep Charlotte and her family safe.” He hated the quaver in his voice, the way he choked up at the thought of the only people he dared to call family anymore.

“They deserve to be happy. Please, don’t punish them for my sins.” He knew he was in this position because of his own hubris. Had he just been able to walk away…Maybe Joey wouldn’t have been able to do this to him. What a poor wretch he’d become. His lips curled at the unbidden thought. Had he truly fallen so far that he was resorting to self-pity? He was the great Bertram Piedmont! He had to maintain at least some level of decorum.

“Soon, Mr. Drew, soon.” He murmured, casting his gaze towards the door. “Soon you and I will meet once more. And then I shall have my vengeance.”

_I’m sorry Charlotte…_


	3. Behind The Scenes

When Allison had first come to Joey Drew Studios, it was like magic to her. She got to peek behind the curtain, see exactly what went into the cartoons the world loved. She felt like she was in on the big secret. She was in the know. It was all so big and bright and grand. Most of Allison’s life had been spent working small jobs like waitressing or being a receptionist in a small business. Never anything quite like this. She’d always wanted to be an actress. Joey had heard her singing in church one day and offered to hire her on the spot.

“You’ll just be voicing bit roles.” He’d told her. “We already have a female lead. But it never hurts to have a backup!” Allison had never been so happy in her life. Even voicing bit roles was enough for her if it meant she got to be a part of something people were going to see. She was going to help make art!

But that had been in the beginning. The happy face the studio had put on to fool the world. That Joey put on. She’d looked up to him, once. He was a man of ideas, of dreams. At least, she’d thought he was. For the most part, Allison kept her head down. She did her work and didn’t cause trouble. She was so afraid of doing something that would mess up this dream she found herself in. More than anything, she admired Susie. Just being near the woman who brought Alice Angel to life was enough to bring stars to her eyes.

“You’re sweet, hun.” Susie had told her once, after she’d admitted how much she looked up to the older woman. They’d never been close, but Susie had been kind to her once. There weren’t a lot of female employees in the music department. Most of the women in the studio were inkers and Allison didn’t see them too much. Susie and Allison had almost been friends due to how much they saw each other in the music department. Then Joey had announced Allison would be replacing Susie. Allison had been excited, of course, but she felt bad for Susie. She knew how much this role meant to Susie. Susie began to quickly deteriorate, lashing out at everyone around her. Allison tried to avoid her as much as she could, but she still heard things. She heard Susie and Sammy fighting more often than not.

“Are you alright?” She asked once Susie was gone.

“I’m fine, Miss Pendle.” He said, face buried in his hands. “Go back to the booth.”

Behind closed doors, they all began to fall apart. Sammy’s patience wore thinner than his threadbare socks and the snapped strings on his banjo. Susie’s confidence crumbled as she fell into Joey’s arms, soaking up his lies. One day Norman was just gone. Grant left his office less and less, becoming increasingly erratic. Behind the curtain, all the players broke apart. And Joey watched, handing each of them a rope to hang themselves with. She didn’t realize until it was too late how dangerous Joey truly was.


	4. Drowning In Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite lyricist gets a turn

When Jack had been young, he’d almost drowned. His uncle had a house near a lake that his family had gone down to every year. Sometimes Sammy’s family would come with them, although Jack’s uncle and Sammy’s father didn’t get along too well. But they’d tolerate each other for Jack and Sammy’s sake. Normally Jack would just hole up somewhere and write, but that time he’d been dragged down to the lake by his cousins. Sammy wasn’t there to keep him company after all, and they didn’t want him to be lonely. He didn’t mind it so much. He liked swimming. While his cousins splashed about, dunking each other, Jack dove as deep as he could. He liked it deep in the water. It was quiet there. He’d always liked the quiet. Once he was as deep as he could comfortably go, he turned his gaze back up to the surface. He could see the sunlight filtering in, casting golden rays through the water. He felt calm like this. Eventually, his lungs started to burn. He started to swim back to the surface, only to find himself caught on something. Looking down, he saw his ankle caught in a twine of rope. He’d been scared, yes, but a sense of calm had washed over him soon after the icy claws of fear. He wasn’t going to die here. He knew that. He passed out soon after, only to wake up on the shore, with his tearful mother standing over him. He wasn’t allowed in the lake after that.

He didn’t think much about his near drowning as he got older. Life got in the way. He had things to do and people to take care of. Eventually, Sammy ended up getting a job at Joey Drew Studios, which he used to in turn get Jack hired.

“My songs are nothing without your words,” Sammy said.

“You’re just trying to butter me up.” Jack rolled his eyes and punched Sammy in the arm.

“It’s working, isn’t it?” Sammy’s smile widened.

“Shut up, Sammy.”

Jack had to admit, he did like working with Sammy. And the other members of the studio liked working with Jack because he was one of a handful of people who could put Sammy in a good mood. Although, as time went on, and Jack spent more time in the sewers, people started moving away from him. He didn’t enjoy the sewers, per se, but it was the only place he could find any peace and quiet. The studio was so loud and busy most of the time. Mechanics were always tromping in and out of the department, the Ink Machine was deafening at almost all hours of the day. It was just too damn loud to get any work done at all. Sammy at least seemed to understand.

“Every artistic person needs to have a sanctuary.” He said. Would’ve been nice if his “sanctuary” didn’t stink to high Heaven, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Maybe things had been quieter when the studio had started out. Jack wondered sometimes what it had been like back then. Mostly because the original members of the studio spoke so highly of the co-founder Henry.

“He was the only one who could keep Joey in check.” They all said. It would have been nice to have someone to reign Joey in. Especially with the whole Ink Machine thing. It was more trouble than it was worth, honestly. It was always leaking, the department always flooding. Sometimes Jack felt like he was drowning in the ink. He’d know what that was like soon enough.

Sammy started acting strangely a few months before Jack’s eventual demise. He’d clear everyone out of the band room and go through some sort of ritual that no one understood. Jack tried to ask him what was going on, but Sammy just brushed off his questions.

“Everything is fine, Jack.” He said with an eerie smile. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

“Well, alright.” Jack never felt like pushing it further than that. Something told him he wouldn’t like what would happen when he did.

The day everything went wrong was…Surprisingly normal. There was nothing in particular that distinguished it from any other day Jack had had in the past year or so. He got to work, went to the sewers, churned out some lyrics. He did end up falling asleep at his desk one point, and when he woke up it seemed everyone else had gone home.

“For the love of-” Jack muttered, getting up. “I better not have missed the bus.” His car was in the shop at the moment, something about engine problems, so he had to take the bus everywhere. He made his way up the stairs and through the infirmary, up into the music department. As he headed for the door, he heard someone singing in the band room. He knew that voice…Jack paused, turning back.

“Sammy?” He went to the band room door, cracking it open. The band room looked empty, but he could see light coming from a doorway he hadn’t known was there. Jack frowned to himself. Against his better judgment, he went to the doorway.

“Didn’t know this was here.” He muttered, walking in. It looked like it was supposed to be some kind of closet, judging by all the instruments. There was a sinking feeling developing in his stomach, but still, he pressed on. That was how he discovered Sammy’s sanctuary. And how he met his end. As soon as Jack stepped into Sammy’s line of sight, the music director stopped playing and smiled. It was a smile that made Jack deeply uncomfortable.

“Sammy? What is this?” He asked.

“Welcome to my sanctuary, Jack,” Sammy said in a sing-song voice. “I’m so glad you’re here. There’s something I want to show you.”

“Something you want to-” Jack took a step forward. He was cut off as Sammy rose and, in one fluid motion, pulled out a knife to plunge into Jack’s stomach. Jack’s eyes widened, stumbling back. He opened his mouth, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing came. Sammy’s smile was maniacal. He watched gleefully as Jack sunk to his knees, clutching his stomach.

“I’m going to give you a gift, Jack.” He said. “You’re going to be reborn.” He then picked Jack up, carrying him upstairs. Jack wasn’t sure what was happening. Sammy…His best friend had just stabbed him. He’d known something was going on with Sammy, but this? This was beyond anything he could have predicted. Before he knew what was happening, they were in the Ink Machine room.

“Ah, there he is.” He heard Joey’s voice come from near the machine. “Put him down over there.” Jack was unceremoniously dumped under the spigot of the Ink Machine. He tried to crawl to his feet, but Sammy pushed him back down.

“You need to let it happen.” Sammy’s expression was far more serious now. “This is a gift, Jack.” Then the machine was turned on and Jack was consumed by ink.

_Suddenly, he was 8 years old again, at the bottom of the lake. This time he was struggling, desperately trying to make it to the surface. The harder he struggled, however, the further away the light became. He couldn’t breathe. The ink was clogging his throat, his nose. He was starting to forget. Why was this happening to him? Slowly, his motions began to slow. His limbs felt like lead. He was so tired. Maybe…Maybe he could stop fighting for a bit. He just…He needed to rest. Just for a little while…_


	5. Angel's Demise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susie suffers in silence

Susie had wanted to be a star once. Her childhood dream had been to become an actress. She’d jumped at any chance to be in the spotlight, whether it was in church or in the school play. She supposed she’d always been a bit of a diva. When you were one of eight children, you found ways to stand out and get attention. Being the only girl in the family had been difficult as well. Her brothers had wanted to play sports or go to the library or do boy things. Some of her brothers had wanted to play dolls or pretend with her, but not too often. Her mother had tried to make her feel included whenever she could, inviting Susie to help her sew or cook or clean. Susie hadn’t wanted to participate, though. Her mother was trying to prepare her for domestic life, something Susie had absolutely no intentions of pursuing. She was going to be someone. She was going places. She’d left home the day she turned 18, never looking back for an instant. She was going to be a star, she told herself.

But Susie didn’t want to be a star anymore. She just wanted it to all be over. There was still some part of her trapped in the monstrosity she’d become, watching as her body mutilated and tortured. Alright, so maybe she was distancing herself from the blame a bit. She’d always done that, even when she’d been little. But this wasn’t like when she’d refused to admit she was the one who broke the lamp in the living room. This was torture. And she was the one doing it.  She was the one carrying out these acts, not someone else. Or, some part of her was. She didn’t know where she ended and the being calling herself Alice Angel began anymore. Whatever good there was left in her didn’t want to do this anymore. She didn’t want to be perfect. She didn’t want to be Alice Angel. She wanted to die. Never before in her life had she wished for death. No matter what had happened, no matter how bad things got, she had always been determined to persevere. She had been determined to live. But now…Now she had nothing. No one to live for, no reason to go on. Even if she did make it out, the shadow of what she’d done would haunt her forever. If, and that was a big if, anyone trapped in the studio were saved…None of them would forgive her for what she’d done. She might not have been the one to start this, but she had certainly taken advantage of the chaos and misery that had resulted.

When Henry arrived at the studio and made his way into her territory, she wanted so badly to tell him to leave. Henry had gotten out before things had gotten bad. He’d escaped their fates. He had still been pure and clean, untouched by Joey’s poison. Being here would bring him nothing but pain. But her uglier side was in control. Her anger and hatred controlled her, spitting venom at Henry. He had left them, abandoning them to pursue bigger and better things. He’d left them at Joey’s mercy and now they were all suffering. She would show him suffering the likes of which he’d never experienced before.

_“Please, I don’t want to hurt him,”_  Susie begged from the back of her mind.  

“You know you do.” ‘Alice’ replied. “I’m you. You can’t lie to me.”

_“Please, I just want this to be over.”_  Susie sobbed, burying her face in her hands.  _“I don’t want to be perfect.”_

“But we will be.” ‘Alice’ said. “We will be perfect and then everything will be alright.” Susie knew that it wouldn’t be alright. Even if they did become ‘perfect’, ‘Alice’ wouldn’t stop. They were too broken, too damaged. Nothing was ever going to be alright again.

She tried not to watch when ‘Alice’ got her hands on the Boris Henry had been traveling with. She hated having to witness the mutilations. But still, she felt the inky black blood under her fingers, the heart quivering in her hand. Worse still, she could hear every whimper and whine from the Boris as ‘Alice’, as she, remade it into something new and horrible. It had been someone once. Perhaps it didn’t remember who it had once been, but it had been someone once. Someone she’d worked with, no doubt. She was doing this to her coworkers. True, they might not have been her coworkers anymore, but once upon a time, the creatures she tore apart had been her friends and colleagues. She rejoiced when Henry put the hideous brute she’d created out of its misery, and almost cried from relief when she felt a sword slide into her chest. She didn’t know if this wound would kill her, but at least it would slow her down. The face she saw as she fell to the ground was one she knew well, and she smiled to herself.

“Allison…”

Who better to kill an angel?


	6. Demon's Demise

Today is Demon’s Demise, so Joey’s in the hot seat~

Leaning into[ Reunion AU](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fseries%2F917481&t=NmZhYTMzOGZjYzRjMjJkODdhODhiYTZlZWFkMjNlOTg4NDZlMmIxNCxiaWZTRlNabg%3D%3D&b=t%3Abf1mUcY3jG5LyWt2YecXMQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fqueenofcats17.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178840424620%2Fbatim-inktober-7&m=0) again.

* * *

Joey Drew had been a man of dreams once upon a time, a real one. He’d believed you could do whatever you set your mind to, no matter what. Dreams came true, after all. His parents had always said so. However, as he got older, his belief in dreams began to fade. First of all, the matter of his parents. They had expectations for him, expectations he hadn’t been too keen on meeting. His older sister had gone on to become a lawyer, a path his parents wanted him to follow. Where had all their talk of dreams gone? When he’d been young they’d always told him he could be whatever he wanted to be. But now that he knew his path they wanted him to do something else? It wasn’t fair. As soon as he’d turned 18, he’d run away. He’d already been accepted to an arts college. He was going to make his dreams come true, no matter what they said. He’d met Henry in college, the two of them bonding over their shared dreams. Together, they decided they could do anything. They’d made the studio together, brought Bendy into the public eye. They’d been going places. But Henry had left. Without Henry, the studio had no heart, no dream. Joey was a man of ideas. But only ideas.

Then there was the fact that he’d always been prone to poor health. His childhood had been plagued by a near constant state of sickness. No matter how careful he was, how much he tried to avoid catching something from the other schoolchildren, he always ended up falling ill. The doctors had expected he wouldn’t live too long, but he’d certainly shown them, hadn’t he?  _…Hadn’t he?_ By the time he’d become an adult, he’d thought his days of sickness were behind him. He managed to start up the studio with Henry and everything seemed as though it was finally going right for him. But Henry had left. And then came the diagnosis. Polio. It was practically a death sentence. Even if he didn’t die from it, he’d likely never be able to walk again. How was he supposed to make his dreams come true if he couldn’t even walk?!

He put on a joyful face for his employees, broadcasting motivation at all hours. But he didn’t believe a word of it. He’d learned a long time ago that it was easier to just tell people what they wanted to hear. The truth hurt. The truth was cold and callous. Lies were comforting. He may not have believed in dreams anymore, but he certainly wasn’t about to give up all he’d worked for. He’d worked too hard to stop now. He had plans for this studio. Joey had grown up on tales of magic and mysticism, and while he hadn’t believed them in the beginning, he was starting to think there was something to the old tales his parents had told him. Demons, angels, there had to be something to it all. He bought book after book on dark magic, plowing through them until he felt he had all the information he needed. He could finally put his plans into motion. The Ink Machine was brought in, pumping ink through the studio. But it served a greater purpose. It would bring his creations to life. Joey was starting to lose himself in his plans, each day losing a little more sanity. His workers grew discontented. They were unhappy with their working conditions and the steady decline of their boss. Joey brushed off their concerns. They didn’t need to be satisfied. They were mere pawns in his plan. They meant nothing. He felt nothing when he sacrificed them in the end. One after another, his employees fell prey to his insanity. He got closer and closer to perfection, until he finally fell prey to the Ink Machine himself.

He was alone, his studio had failed, he was a monster. But he still had work to do.

_Dreams come true…_


	7. Wandering Is A Sin

Day 8 was Wandering Is A Sin. So I decided to link it back to [Songbird Cordelia ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F13205511&t=ZTc0MjEzNDllZTY1MWEwOTdlOTk1ZGNkMDhkMDRmZmY4MzI1NGNmNyxXZ3Y5YlFCMQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Abf1mUcY3jG5LyWt2YecXMQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fqueenofcats17.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178840484815%2Fbatim-inktober-8&m=0)

* * *

He’d told her not to wander off. The decrepit halls of the studio were dangerous, especially in the Angel’s domain. Not to mention there was their Lord who prowled the halls. They may have worshipped him, but they were in no hurry to get on his bad side. But he’d given her a task to complete. Replace the cutouts broken by the Angel. They’d done this before without any trouble. But that had been together. Now they were alone, separate,  _vulnerable_. Cordelia hummed to herself as she put up a new cutout. Sammy had given her a very important job. He was counting on her! She had to do a good job so he’d be proud of her. She took a moment to look around, though. She didn’t often come down this far into the studio. She had vague memories of coming here before, when things had been well. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting on this floor, but she did remember delivering papers to people on the level.

“Boring.” She murmured to herself, wandering through the halls. She liked going to the Heavenly Toys level because Sammy let her play with the toys sometimes. He said she could take some of them back to the music department, and she often did. She found a tape in the back of the level. Pressing the play button, a nasal voice filled the hallway.

_“_ _I don’t get it. Everyone’s walking around here like grandma just died. Nothing but angry faces everywhere. These people gotta lighten up. I mean, hello! You make cartoons! Your job is to make people laugh. I’m tellin’ ya, if these people don’t start crackin’ a smile every now and then, I’m outta here.”_

“Wally.” She whispered, a face popping into her mind. She hadn’t thought about him in ages. Part of her hoped he was alright. Most of her knew he wasn’t. She sighed and put the tape down.

“What do we have here?” She froze. She knew that voice. The Angel…She’d lingered for too long! Slowly, Cordelia turned around. Alice stood before her, a malicious smile painted across her features. Cordelia had never actually come face to face with Alice before. Sammy had told her before to beware of the Angel and that was all she had ever wanted to know.

“It seems I’ve caught myself a little songbird.” Alice hummed, taking a step towards Cordelia. Cordelia instinctively took a step back.

“You don’t need to worry.” Alice cooed, cupping Cordelia’s face in her hands. “I won’t hurt you, my dear. You’ve always been such a good friend to me.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cordelia stammered. Something about the way Alice spoke was so familiar. Cordelia just couldn’t put her finger on what it might be.

“My darling Cordelia,” Alice continued. “My little songbird.”

“What do you want?” Cordelia asked. She had her back to the wall. Nowhere to run.

“I want to make you perfect,” Alice said. The next thing Cordelia knew, there was a rag over her mouth and the world was going dark.

_Wandering is a terrible sin, my dear…_

She awoke to someone singing. She sat up, looking around blearily. She wasn’t sure where she was and her head really hurt. She had a lingering feeling that something bad had happened, but she didn’t know what it was. She had vague memories of someone carving into her flesh, forcing food down her throat. Quickly, she took stock of what she knew. Her name was Cordelia. She was…Who was she? She was here following someone. Someone important.

“Ah! You’re awake~” A woman came into view. “How do you feel, darling?” Cordelia’s first instinct was to recoil from the woman. Half of the other woman’s face was mutilated in a grotesque grimace. And that wasn’t even considering the halo embedded in the woman’s head.

“Yes, I know, I must look a fright.” The woman self-consciously lifted a hand, almost as if to cover that side of her face. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“I…A little.” Cordelia began to wring her hands. Or, at least, she tried. She had one fully formed arm, but the other was just a column of what appeared to be ink. She frowned at this.

“I tried to make you as perfect as I could, but my supplies are rather limited at the moment.” The woman said, quickly moving on. “You’re certainly more stable than you were before.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” Cordelia bobbed her head.

“Do you remember what you were before?”

“No. Um…Should I?”

The woman smiled, cupping Cordelia’s face in her hands. “No. It’s better that you don’t think about it, my little songbird. You’re safe with me now.”

“Thank you, Miss Susie.” The name slipped out on instinct as Cordelia reached up to touch the woman’s hand. She remembered the voice speaking to her. Fond memories appeared in her mind of singing with Susie Campbell. The woman recoiled as if she’d been burned, her face distorting into a mask of rage. However, it quickly vanished.

“My name is Alice.” She corrected the younger woman, smiling once more. “Alice Angel.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you, Miss Alice.” Cordelia bobbed her head in a respectful nod.

“That’s better.” Alice approached once more, sweeping Cordelia up in her arms. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“Did…Did we used to know each other?” Cordelia asked, looking curiously up at Alice.

“Not exactly,” Alice said. “But you were always such a kindhearted girl. The perfect companion for an angel.”

Cordelia couldn’t help but blush. “You’re too kind.”

“I’m only telling the truth, dear~” Alice tapped her nose. “Now, why don’t we get you in some more proper clothes? We have quite a lot of work to do.”


	8. Run, Run, Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new angel enters the scene with her faithful companion

Dave belongs to[ Gears112](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fusers%2FGears112%2Fpseuds%2FGears112&t=MDE3YmRmNzIxNjA3OTczMTUwNDI4ZmU1NWE0ZTgzNzgxZWU2MDEzOCxTbzRHd1Z5Zg%3D%3D&b=t%3Abf1mUcY3jG5LyWt2YecXMQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fqueenofcats17.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178902720945%2Fbatim-inktober-9&m=0)

* * *

It was hard for Allison to remember there had been a time before this. Before her existence had consisted of being constantly on the run from eldritch horrors of all kinds. Before everyone she’d known and loved had been turned into a monster by her devil of a boss. All the days seemed to bleed together into one long night of fear and adrenaline. Sometimes at night, between the brief hours she was allowed to sleep before Tom roused her to stand guard, she wondered if she would ever see the outside world again. It was easy to forget that there was a world outside the studio. She’d spent most of her life trapped in its dark depths, after all. But she knew there had been more, once. She remembered a life before this. She remembered friends, a family, a boyfriend. Dave…

She remembered Dave fondly. If she closed her eyes, she could remember taking walks with him in the park. She could feel the sunlight on her skin, the warmth of her hand in his. He’d always been so kind to her, even when Susie had been tormenting her and everyone else who got in her way. He’d never abandoned her. She found herself crying when she thought of him sometimes. She hoped to whatever god would still listen that he was alright. Maybe he’d moved on. Perhaps selfishly, she hoped he was still waiting for her. Although, that just wasn’t realistic. Occasionally, her sobs would wake up Tom. He never yelled at her, just moved over and wrapped his good arm around her shoulders so that she could lean on his chest. The two of them had never been close during the studio’s actual run, but down here…Thomas was almost like a father to her.

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” Allison whispered on one such night. It had been a particularly rough day of running. The Butcher Gang clones had been rather aggressive and they’d almost been found by Bendy multiple times. Alice wasn’t really helping, either. She seemed particularly off the rails as of late. Almost as if someone was provoking her.

Tom sighed. “You want a real answer or you want me to sugar coat things?”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Honestly? I got no clue.” Tom shrugged. He’d always been a very world-weary man, but now that he’d been turned into a cartoon wolf and lost an arm, it was as though he’d given up hope of living past this. He’d never talked much in the first place, and this whole situation had made him even more taciturn. Allison often felt as though if it wasn’t for her, he would have stopped trying a long time ago.

“We can’t stop hoping, right?” Allison tried to sound hopeful. Tom looked over at her, a soft smile passing over his features. He reached out and ruffled her hair with his mechanical arm.

“You’re a good kid. You didn’t deserve to get mixed up in all of this.”

Sometimes she wondered if he had a family out there. He never talked about kids or a wife, but there was something in his eyes when he looked at her that made her feel as though he’d been a father at one point. When he looked at her, she was almost certain he was seeing someone else.

“And you did?”

“I’m old. I’ve lived my life.” Tom said. “You were just getting started.”

“Oh, come on.” Allison couldn’t help but snort. “You’re, what, 50 at most?”

“You don’t think that’s old?” Tom seemed almost surprised by her answer. Wally had probably teased him about his age. It seemed like a Wally thing to do.

“I mean, it’s not young,” Allison conceded. “But it’s not too old. Middle-aged I’d say.”

“You’re spoiling me, kid.” Tom chuckled. “I’m gonna go back to sleep now.” Allison nodded, turning her attention back to the fire they’d started. It was contained in a wastebasket, it wasn’t as though there was a shortage of those, and fueled mostly by sheet music. Sammy would have been scandalized. Allison hugged her knees to her chest. She tried not to think about Sammy too much. He’d been a good friend and mentor to her in the beginning. She’d felt so bad when Susie had lashed out at him and his family. He certainly didn’t remember any of that now, though.

“We’re gonna put a stop to this.” She looked over at the sound of Tom’s voice. He had laid down and now had his back to her.

“We’re gonna put a stop to this.” He repeated. “I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out, but we’ll make sure that no one else suffers because of that bastard ever again.”

“Yeah. We will.” Allison smiled despite herself. “Sleep well, Tom. I’ll wake you up when I get tired.” Tom gave a grunt of acknowledgment, shifting to make himself more comfortable before finally going to sleep. Allison gazed into the fire and took a deep breath. They hadn’t started this, but they’d be damned if they weren’t going to end it.


	9. Who's Laughing Now?

Joey’s shoulders heaved as he stood over the corpse of the creature that had once been a Boris. It laid on the slab before him, chest torn open and eyes formed into little x’s. He’d prided himself on being emotionless and cold when it came to dealing with the ink creatures that had previously been his employees. Up until this point, he hadn’t lost his temper. But this time…This time it had been different. The initial stages had proceeded just as all the others had. He’d fed the employee through the machine, getting a Boris out of it. He’d taken the Boris to one of the rooms and strapped it down to study it. Normally, when a Boris came out of the machine, it couldn’t speak. Tom had been an exception, but he’d gotten away before Joey could investigate what made the former mechanic different. This Boris seemed to take after Tom, in more ways than one. When it awoke, Joey was going through his instruments, humming to himself.

“Wha-? Where am I?” It struggled against its bonds. “What is this?!”

“Mm. I didn’t expect you to be able to talk.” Joey murmured, turning around with a scalpel in hand. “We’ll have to fix that.”

“Fix- What are you talking about?!” The Boris growled at him. “What did you do to me?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Joey smiled disarmingly.

“Yes, you do!” The Boris snapped. “This isn’t right! I’m not supposed to be  _this_!”

“Then what are you supposed to be?” Joey asked innocently. The Boris lapsed into silence, gritting its teeth. Joey chuckled darkly before moving to inspect the Boris’ body. To its credit, the Boris did make it quite difficult for Joey to do his observations. It wriggled and twisted and refused to stay still long enough for Joey to do anything. Finally, Joey stopped and slammed his hands down on the table.

“Either stay still or I’ll make you stay still.” He growled.

“What are you going to do? Kill me?” The Boris asked. Its previous success in minorly inconveniencing Joey had made it bold. It didn’t know what else the studio head had done, or maybe it just didn’t remember. The latter was probably more likely. Few who went through the Ink Machine retained the memories of their former lives.

“I might.” Joey smiled tightly. “You don’t want to die, do you?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” The Boris said. “I mean, I might not know who I am, but I know I don’t want to live like this.” Joey groaned, rolling his eyes. Gods, not even Wally had been this difficult. Who had this one been again? Ugh, it wasn’t like it mattered.

“What are you even trying to do?” The Boris continued. “I mean, I’m a cartoon, right? Why the Hell did you turn me into a cartoon?”

“You wouldn’t understand it even if I told you,” Joey said dismissively, picking up one of his tools. “Now, let’s solve the problem of your voice.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re too stupid to explain it.” The Boris almost smirked. Joey stopped, the sharp object poised above the Boris’ throat.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, you’re too stupid to explain your own plan.” The Boris’ smirk widened. Joey’s face twisted in a snarl. He’d show them too stupid! So he laid out his entire plan for this nameless worker. He expected them to be dumbfounded by the sheer brilliance. After all, it was a well thought out plan. He’d thought of everything. Instead, he was met with laughter. The Boris was laughing at him. Him! Joey Drew!

“What’s so funny?!” Joey demanded.

“Y-You!” The Boris cackled. “You’re such an idiot! This isn’t going to work! You’ll probably end up killing yourself too!”

Joey saw red. He shrieked, plunging the scalpel into the Boris’ throat. Turning back to the table, he started grabbing tool after tool and ripping into the Boris’ abdomen. He wasn’t even entirely conscious of what he was doing. Once he finally regained awareness, he was standing over a dead Boris clone. He was breathing heavily, shoulders heaving and breath coming in great gasps. He threw the tool in his hand onto the table, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm himself. It was going to be alright. He’d just make another Boris clone. They were nothing special after all. Completely replaceable. Still, he paused. Dipping his finger into the dead creature’s black blood, he smiled to himself. When he left, shoving a wrench into the creature’s open chest cavity, there was a new message painted on the wall.

_Who’s laughing now?_


	10. Sleep Sheep Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is much cuter. Sammy babysits the Foster-Bell daughters

Today is Sleep sheep sleep. So, of course, it’s Sammy. It’s a bit cuter today, and featuring the daughters of Cordelia Bell and Joshua Foster. Joshua belongs to [Gears112](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fusers%2FGears112%2Fpseuds%2FGears112&t=ODFmMDVjMjhhNDBiOTI2YjJmMzQxNWE4ZGE0MzhlOTQwNmRhYzMxNSxObnJ1U1pwWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Abf1mUcY3jG5LyWt2YecXMQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fqueenofcats17.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178970683860%2Fbatim-inktober-11&m=0)

* * *

Sammy honestly couldn’t remember if he’d ever been good with children. There certainly hadn’t been much in the way of opportunities for him to figure this out up until this point. He was thankful children hadn’t been involved in the studio, though. He wouldn’t wish his fate upon anyone, least of all a child. Although, Samantha and her sister were hardly like any other children he recalled meeting before. They were so profoundly unbothered by the fact that they were essentially an inky version of Hell. Sammy had asked them why they were here in the first place and had been told,

“Mom used to work here so we wanted to see it.”

“I don’t get why she and Dad didn’t want us to be here, though,” Samantha added. “It’s not like we’re in danger or anything.” Sammy honestly had no response to that. He didn’t have the heart to tell the girls that he’d fully intended to sacrifice them to his Lord until he’d noticed they were actual children. They’d been extremely lucky not to have encountered anyone more dangerous than Sammy. He tried to keep them entertained as best he could in the music department, leading the Searchers in songs and telling the girls about what exactly he did as the Music Director. Eventually, though, the sisters did get bored.

“I wanna see the rest of the studio,” Samantha whined, flopping on the floor of the band room.

“Little lamb, the studio is very dangerous.” He warned her.

“But we’re not going to be in danger if you’re with us,” Henrietta said, smiling as she held his arm. “You know how things work here, right?” Sammy stared down at her, feeling his heart beginning to melt. There was something about the way she smiled up at him that felt so familiar.

“Very well.” He sighed.

“Fuck yeah!” Samantha jumped up, pumping her fist in the air.

“Language.” Sammy chided her. “Now come along.”

“I’m 12!” Samantha said, following him and Henrietta out of the band room. “I’m allowed to swear!”

“Mom says it’s okay if we swear, just not in serious situations.” Henrietta nodded sagely. “Plus, Dad’s friends swear a lot. Especially Aunt Nancy.”

“Nancy…” Sammy frowned. There was something familiar about that name. He couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before, though.

“Aunt Nancy’s the coolest!” Samantha’s eyes lit up as Sammy led them deeper into the studio. “I want to be just like her when I get older!”

“How many tattoos are you gonna get?” Henrietta asked, looking over at her sister.

“As many as I can!” Samantha grinned, striking a pose.

Sammy clicked his tongue. “Just make sure you like the tattoos you get. No spur of the moment decisions, now.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “Dad said I can’t get any tattoos ‘til I’m 18 anyway.”

“But we got our ears pierced last year!” Henrietta piped up. “So, we can wear pretty earrings now! But Sam’s still grounded for trying to get her nose pierced.”

“I am not!” Samantha said. “I stopped being grounded like six months ago.”

“Mom said you were grounded for ‘til college~” Henrietta grinned.

“That’s only because you told her! It would’ve been fine if you’d kept your mouth shut!”

“It’s not my fault you were doing something you weren’t supposed to~”

Sammy groaned preemptively. He had a feeling this was going in a direction he wasn’t going to like.

“I would have looked awesome with a nose ring,” Samantha grumbled. “It would have been fine!”

“Dad said you can’t pierce anything but your ears until you’re 18.” Henrietta drew herself up to her full height, which was still rather small, clinging to Sammy’s arm and looking up at him. “I’m a good girl, Mr. Sammy.”

“You’re a kiss-up,” Samantha said.

“Am not!”

“You totally are! You’re always telling on me!”

It was then that Henrietta reached over and smacked her sister. This led to both girls screaming at, and trying to hit, each other. Sammy had to hold them apart from each other until they finally calmed down.

“I want you to apologize to each other.” He said once they’d finally stopped trying to fight each other.

“I’m sorry I called you a kiss-up,” Samantha muttered, scuffing her shoes.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” Henrietta replied, playing with her braids.

“Good. Now hug.”

Samantha grumbled, but she hugged her sister in the end. Henrietta seemed perfectly happy to hug and make up. Satisfied, Sammy ushered them onward. By the time they managed to reach Heavenly Toys, both girls seemed to be getting rather tired.

“Why don’t we take a break here, my little lambs?” Sammy suggested, gesturing to the couches.

“‘M not tired.” Samantha yawned. Henrietta, meanwhile, was falling asleep standing up while she clung to her sister.

“You don’t get a say in this,” Sammy said, pushing them over to the couch.

“Fine.” Samantha rubbed her eyes. “I’m…I’m just gonna…Gonna rest my eyes.” She curled up around her sister protectively, both of them falling asleep in minutes. Sammy couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two of them. They stirred a warm feeling in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Sleep, little sheep, sleep.” He whispered, settling down in front of them. “May you dream of pleasant things.”


	11. Frankensteined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some gore in this one

Wally knew he wasn’t any kind of intellectual. He knew how to read and write, sure, but his schooling had been pretty limited in other respects. His family had been pretty poor growing up, so he hadn’t had the chance to read much. He especially hadn’t read the so-called “classics”. Least of all Frankenstein. Cordelia had read it a few times, and she’d explained it to him once.

“Sounds like Joey.” Wally had said once she was done. “Rich guy who’s got no one to tell him no and a hard-on for freaky shit? That’s Joey to a T.”

“I…” Cordelia’s brow furrowed. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before making a small ‘huh’ noise. “Y’know, that actually sounds about right.”

“I know, right?” Wally laughed. “But let me tell ya, if Joey ends up making some monster outta human body parts, I’m outta here!”

Looking back, he hadn’t known how right he would be. He’d thought it was funny, the connection between Joey and this monster of mythic proportions. He hadn’t ever expected Joey to go as far as he had, to lose himself the way he had. To make monsters out of them all. That was probably how the family and friends of Victor Frankenstein had felt before his creature killed them. They hadn’t seen the signs until it was too late to run away. The man who had called himself Wally Franks had died like all the others, suffocating in ink.

He wasn’t the only Boris in the studio, Joey had created a small army of them, but he was one of only two who had survived long enough to find companionship. He was the most perfect Boris to have ever been created, as noted by Alice. Some part of him remained Wally, though. The original Boris hadn’t been nearly as good-natured or mischievous as he was. He almost felt special. Henry certainly seemed to like him, which gave Boris some comfort. Being with Henry made him feel better. He’d been so lonely in the safehouse, all by himself. Part of him had worried he’d never see another living person. Part of him had worried he’d die there. But then Henry had arrived! Henry was smart and kind and he had been able to survive the music department and Sammy, so Henry could probably survive anything! It was because of his confidence in Henry that he’d ventured out of the safehouse, and why he’d been captured by Alice in the end. He’d believed in Henry. He’d thought Henry would be able to keep him from all harm. He’d been wrong.

Alice herself was no doctor, but she had built up enough knowledge of the anatomy of the ink creatures to be able to do what she needed to.

“Just stay still.” She cooed to the struggling Boris. “I’m going to make you something amazing.” Her words reminded him far too much of what Joey had said to him when the studio head had removed his voice box. Alice hummed a song to herself, picking up an ax. Boris struggled harder, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The ax bit into the flesh of Boris’ chest, causing him to yelp out in pain. Alice continued to hum as she pried Boris’ chest open, reaching in and digging around. She was used to the squelching noises that came with this process by now. The screams were difficult to ignore, though. Boris lacked a voice, but he could still scream evidently. Honestly, it was so irritating. Finally, she found what she was looking for, withdrawing his heart from his chest. With that done, she could move on to her other task.

“Now, let’s see what we can do to make you…better.” Alice purred. She honestly didn’t know what she was doing. She was used to taking the creatures apart, not putting them together. But what she managed to do with Boris…She was proud of that. She’d taken body parts from many different Boris’ she’d killed over the years, as well as a good deal of extra thick ink and some mechanical parts. She couldn’t help but giggle in delight.

_Everything hurt…_

_His body felt wrong…_

_Well, wrong-er. It had been wrong before, but now…_

_Now it didn’t even feel like a body anymore_

_“Guess I really did become Frankenstein’s monster.” He said to himself. Oh well, this would be over soon. Then he’d be back in the ink. It would all be over soon._


	12. Fix Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back to Allison and Tom!

“GO!”

“I’m not going to leave you behind!”

“It wasn’t a request!”

Tom gritted his teeth as he stood between Allison and the monstrous demon that haunted their nightmares. They’d stayed out in the open for too long and it had found them. It didn’t seem to move very fast, but it could close the distance between itself and its prey much faster than one could anticipate. One of them could escape if the other distracted it. Tom had already decided that he would be the one to distract the demon so Allison could escape. Allison, evidently, had had other ideas.

“Alli, you need to go.” He glanced back towards her, his voice low. “Now.” Allison pursed her lips, her whole body tensed. Bendy was getting closer to him now and Tom could hear its wheezy breathing.

“I’m not leaving you.” Allison finally said, drawing her sword.

“Alli now’s not the time for hero-” Tom started to shout, before a pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced radiated out from his left arm. He’d turned around to yell at Allison, but when he turned back, he found Bendy holding his arm. It appeared to be…melting under Bendy’s touch. The demon’s smile widened. Tom was frozen. This was it. This was how he died. Unmade by this asshole. Suddenly, though, metal flashed and Bendy let go of his arm. Allison stood between Tom and Bendy now, brandishing her sword. Bendy had stumbled back a few steps after Allison had swiped at it.

“You’re an idiot,” Tom growled, holding the stump of his arm to his chest.

“Shut up and run.” She replied. Tom nodded and made tracks, Allison right behind him. They didn’t stop running until they were certain they’d lost the demon. They found themselves back in the main warehouse of Bendyland.

“Are you alright?” Allison turned to Tom, sheathing her sword and fussing over him like a mother hen.

“I’ve been worse.” He shrugged, despite the fact that he was currently missing an arm.

Allison sighed. “Well, let’s see if we can find you a new arm.”

“Find me a new arm?” Tom frowned. “Where’re you going with that? It’s not like there are just spare arms lying around.”

“No, but if I’m remembering correctly, there is a robot around here,” Allison said.

“So…We’re gonna give me a robot arm?” Tom asked, following her as she headed to the R&D door. He had to admit, he never thought he’d have a robot arm. It actually sounded kind of cool. Not that he was going to admit it, though. He had to seem cool for Allison.

“Excited?” She glanced back at him with a smirk. “It must be every little boy’s dream to have a cool robot body part.” Had he still been able to blush, Tom might have been blushing at that moment. After dispatching the Butcher Gang members huddled around the trash can fire, they went to find the robot. Tom had been down this way before to confer with Lacie about different mechanical problems that arose in this part of the studio. She’d hated the robot with all her heart. Allison wasted no time in getting the left arm off the robot.

“Alright, so we’ve got the arm.” Tom leaned against a shelf. “How do we attach it to me?”

“You’re the engineer, right?” Allison said, her voice coming out perhaps a bit sharper than she’d intended.

“I wish I was an engineer,” Tom replied calmly. “And there’s no need to snap at me, missy.”

“I’m sorry.” Allison’s shoulders slumped. “I just…I’m sorry. It’s my fault you lost your arm in the first place.” She looked almost as though she was on the verge of tears, clutching the arm to her chest.

“I’m not dead, that’s what matters.” Tom walked over, putting his remaining hand on her shoulder. “You made sure of that.”

“But-”

“I’m alive.  **We’re**  alive.” He said. “That’s what counts down here. Now let’s figure out how to get that arm on me, alright?”

“…Alright.”


	13. Memories Of The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy reminisces about his past at the studio.

Today is Memories of the past, so I’m going back to Sammy and the Foster-Bell daughters. Joshua belongs to [Gears112](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fusers%2FGears112%2Fpseuds%2FGears112&t=ODFmMDVjMjhhNDBiOTI2YjJmMzQxNWE4ZGE0MzhlOTQwNmRhYzMxNSxObnJ1U1pwWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Abf1mUcY3jG5LyWt2YecXMQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fqueenofcats17.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178970683860%2Fbatim-inktober-11&m=0)

* * *

“Mr. Sammy?”

“Yes, my little lamb?”

“What was it like working here?”

The girls had awoken a few minutes ago and now they were in Shawn’s workroom, trying to get the door open. Samantha had just turned on Shawn’s audio log, which the sisters had listened to with rapt attention.

“Why do you ask?” Sammy said, removing a decapitated Boris plush from the gears of the toy machine. That was the last thing clogging up the belt wheels, meaning they could get to the door that took them deeper in.

“Well, the people on the tapes don’t sound like they liked working here,” Henrietta said, clutching her Bendy plush to her chest. Sammy had told her and her sister that they could each keep a plush.

“Your tapes sounded pretty upset too,” Samantha added before darting over to turn on the machine and move the shelves. Sammy hesitated, pursing his lips.

“Why don’t you ask your mother about this when you get out?” He suggested, trying to steer them away from the subject. “You said she worked here, didn’t she?”

“Mom gets really quiet when we ask about the studio,” Henrietta said. “Dad says she lost someone she cared about here and she doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Ah. I suppose…That’s understandable.” Sammy admitted. “If I weren’t here, I wouldn’t want to talk about it either.” Hell, he didn’t want to talk about it  _now_. But the girls had asked nicely. They were going to find out about it sooner or later.

“Working for Joey was…interesting, to say the least,” Sammy said. “He was always a strange man, even before he went off the rails. Always full of ideas and spouting speeches about dreaming and the power of belief. I think…” He hesitated. “I hope there was a time when he believed at least a little bit of what he said.”

“So…You liked working here?” Samantha asked tentatively.

“It wasn’t always awful.” Sammy shrugged slightly. “I got to work with Jack, with Susie…” He trailed off. He hadn’t thought about Susie for a long time.

“Aunt Nancy doesn’t like Miss Susie much.” Henrietta hugged her plush tighter. “She calls Miss Susie a word I’m not supposed to repeat.”

“Bitch.” Samantha stage-whispered. “Aunt Nancy says Susie’s a bitch.”

“I suppose that’s how she was in the end.” Sammy nodded. “But she was so sweet once.” His whole body seemed to slump, all the energy and fight leaving him. He’d loved her once.

“I heard Joey tried to build a park here.” Samantha suddenly said, sensing that they’d delved into a topic Sammy didn’t particularly want to talk about. “What was that like?”

“It was certainly something.” A smile tugged at Sammy’s lips. “I’d thought that no one on Earth had a bigger ego than Joey, but Piedmont certainly proved me wrong. Always swaggering around like he owned the place. Practically no one in the studio could stand him.”

“Who could?” Henrietta asked.

“Norman’s cousin Lacie. She always was a formidable woman.” Sammy chuckled. “I think they might’ve been sweet on each other, honestly. She was the only one he ever let near his precious machines. Connor tried to work on them once or twice when Benton was sick, but Piedmont insisted only Benton was allowed to work on them.”

“She sounds like the kind of person I’d like to meet.” Samantha grinned.

“She would have loved you two,” Sammy said. “She was an even bigger grump than me, but put her with kids or young women and she was a total mother hen. She always took in the new girls and made sure no one messed with them.” She’d protected Allison and Cordelia from Susie’s wrath as best she could. Even Susie had been afraid to get on Lacie’s bad side.

“I think Mom’s talked about her before.” Henrietta nodded, screwing her face up in thought.

“She probably has.” Samantha agreed. “Don’t remember what she said, though.” Part of Sammy wondered who exactly their mother was. There was something awfully familiar about these girls, but he just couldn’t place what it was.

“I think we’ve lingered long enough,” Sammy said. “Why don’t we continue?” He knew the Angel’s domain was ahead, and as much as he dreaded coming face to face with her, if anyone could snap her out of this it would be a child.

“Okay.” The girls nodded, heading through the door. Sammy followed after them, hesitating before crossing the threshold. Was he worthy to walk with angels? Certainly not. But these two might be.


	14. Ink-festation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this gets pretty dark.

The ink was like a disease. As soon as the Ink Machine was brought in, the ink spread to consume everything in the studio. It leeched into everything, infecting everyone with its darkness. It poisoned the mind, sickened the body. Everyone affected began to change as the ink warped them. Sammy’s mind began to swirl down the drain, replaced by a devotion to a figure who wasn’t real. He’d always been a man of religion. It hadn’t been too hard for the ink to twist that desire into something it could use. Susie became obsessed with Alice Angel, with being perfect. The ink preyed on her insecurities, her desire to keep a role that meant so much to her, bringing out all her hatred and anger to direct it onto those around her. Joey’s behavior grew erratic as the voices in the ink whispered to him. He was the easiest to influence. His mind was already in shambles after Henry’s departure. All it had to do was promise to grant his desires and he went along with everything it asked of him. Jack and Norman retreated into the shadows, Bertram clung to his machines, and the mechanics trudged dutifully on. Everyone in the studio was marked, but only a handful of them recognized their situation.

In his office, Grant was on the verge of a mental breakdown. The numbers just weren’t adding up. They were so deep in debt it was a miracle the studio was still running. They were dead men walking, every one of them. Voices whispered in Grant’s mind as he heaved the contents of his stomach into a garbage can. It was all coated in thick black ink. Everything was full of ink these days.

“Doesn’t add up,” Grant muttered, clutching the can. “Time is money. Time is money.” A string of numbers spilled from his mouth. All that he could think about was the debt. Joey was going to drag them all down to Hell with him. They were all going to die, drowning in ink. He dipped his finger into the ink in the trash can, getting shakily to his feet as he began to scrawl on the walls with the ink. He had to make this work. If he didn’t…No, he couldn’t think about that.

“Doesn’t add up. Doesn’t add up. Doesn’t add up.” He kept muttering to himself as his strokes grew more frenzied. “What will Joey say?” There had to be something he was missing, something he could do to fix this. Joey’s shadow loomed over him. He knew what his boss was capable of, knew how much Joey liked taking his aggression out on people he knew wouldn’t ever do anything about it. Grant had been raised to keep his head down and not cause trouble. Besides, who would believe him?

The ink took and took and took, giving only twisted blessing in return. What it gave the employees was seldom what they wanted. It had given Joey Bendy’s form, but it was imperfect and caused the forms of others to dissolve. His dreams could never truly come true so long as he existed the way he did. It made Wally Boris, allowing him to live while taking away all that he was. Sammy too survived, at the cost of his mind and form. Susie got her wish to become Alice, but not for too terribly long before Joey stole it away from her, destroying her mind in the process. The ink was alive and it wanted only to consume. Joey had no idea what he’d unleashed upon this world. And he would pay for his ignorance. The studio was infested and he had no power to clear it.


	15. Fading Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Edgar feels like he should be something different

The 16th was Fading away, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, but I eventually settled on having a Perfect!Butcher Gang. 

* * *

It was getting hard to remember who he was, where he’d come from. He…He was pretty sure that what he was was…wrong. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was almost certain that he shouldn’t be what he was. Part of him remembered being different, having a bigger body, only two arms, and…glasses?

“Edgar? You alright there?”

He looked up abruptly. Charley stood in front of him, hands on his hips.

“Oh, uh, yeah. ‘M fine.” Edgar nodded vaguely before turning his attention back to the fire they’d set up. It was in a trash can they’d managed to find. They didn’t  _need_  the fire, they didn’t get cold, but it made them feel better nonetheless.

“Right, I’m calling shite right there,” Charley said. “Somethin’s obviously up with you. So spill. We’re a gang, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Then tell me what’s up. I wanna help.”

“It’s just…” Edgar began to fidget, wringing his hands. “Y’know how sometimes I feel like I’m supposed to be something else?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m feeling like that now.”

“Ah, okay.” Edgar was still grateful that Charley hadn’t been mad at him about his feelings. He didn’t know why he’d thought Charley would be mad, though. Sure, Charley would get mad at him and Barley when they messed up a plan in the cartoons, but that was usually only for comedic effect. Charley cared about him. He would never be mad at Edgar for something he couldn’t control. So why was Edgar so on edge?

“Look, when Barley gets back, we can all talk about this.” Charley put a hand on Edgar’s shoulder. Of the three of them, Barley was the best when it came to talking through their feelings. She was always patient and understanding, never rushing them or shaming them. Charley and Edgar had been a little surprised when Barley had announced to them that she was a woman shortly after they’d formed. Normally Barley was a man. But if Barley felt like a woman, then Barley was a woman. Simple as that.

“Okay.” Edgar nodded. So they waited until Barley came back, hauling a bag of soup cans on her back. She saw Charley and Edgar huddled together and immediately had some idea of what was going on. Because Barley too knew what it was like to feel she should be someone else. She  _was_ someone else. She was Lacie Benton. Waking up with the body of a cartoon pirate had certainly been a shock, but she had gotten used to it. The problem, though, was that she seemed to be forgetting. With every passing day, she forgot more and more. Her memories fading away like snow on your tongue. She was determined not to forget who she was, though. Joey wasn’t allowed to take this from her too.

“You havin’ those feelings again?” She asked, setting the soup down. Edgar nodded. For a moment, Lacie could see Grant sitting there, wringing his hands the way he always did. She didn’t think Grant had been a particularly nervous person before the studio. Working for Joey had certainly changed that.

“You want to talk about it?”

“That was the plan,” Charley said. Lacie nodded, walking over to sit in front of Edgar.

“Tell us what you’re feeling.”

“I feel like…” Edgar hesitated. “I feel like I can remember a different voice, a different body. A body that was taller and stronger. And…glasses? I feel like I had glasses.” Lacie nodded solemnly. She had avoided telling the others that they hadn’t originally been cartoons, but she knew she’d have to tell them eventually. Either that or they’d all forget. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“What should we do about it?” Charley looked at her, brow furrowed in concern. Charley was technically the de-facto leader of the Butcher Gang, but Lacie was the one who tended to be the leader in almost every situation. Her personality was still intact, so the being that had previously been Shawn yielded to her.

“There’s not a lot we  _can_  do,” Lacie admitted, running a hand over her beard.

“I probably shouldn’t have brought it up,” Edgar said quickly.

“Don’t worry about it, Edgar.” Charley slapped his back. “It woulda bothered you, even if you hadn’t said anything. We’re a gang, we gotta be here for each other.”

“What he said.” Despite herself, Lacie smiled softly.

“Okay.” Edgar gave a shy smile.

“Now, you hungry?” Lacie reached back and pulled out a can of soup. Charley snatched it away from her, ripping it open and starting to drink. Lacie rolled her eyes and got a new one for Edgar, who thanked her quietly. They could make this work, just so long as they didn’t end up fading away.


	16. Corrupted Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Projectionist reflects on his existence.

Today is Corrupted Body, so here’s our sweet Norman.

* * *

 

**He was… _Wrong_.**

He lacked the mental capacity to think on it further than that, but he knew he was wrong. What he was, was wrong. He slogged through the labyrinth of ink day in and day out, unable to figure out why he felt so wrong. Every moment was one of agony. His body constantly hurt, the projector weighing heavily on his shoulders, his limbs aching. He was always aware of the wires that were fused to his body. He didn’t know how he’d become like this, and some part of him was fairly sure he didn’t want to know. He’d got flashes occasionally of being strapped to a table while a smiling man cut into him. The smiling man would speak to him in a soft voice, only to turn into a woman with horns and a half-mutilated face. The woman had wires and a projector. Those flashes came with memories of pain. Thankfully, they didn’t last too long. Watching the cartoons playing on the projectors made him feel better. They brought him memories of sitting in some kind of booth, listening while music played. He liked those memories better. They made him feel better.

Sometimes creatures wandered onto his floor, but they never lasted too long. He killed anyone who came to his floor. He didn’t know why he did this, exactly. There was some primal urge deep inside him to destroy all trespassers. He ripped them limb from limb, digging out their hearts. He knew this was important to make sure they’d stay down, even if he didn’t know how he knew this. If he’d been able to, he would have consumed the hearts. But he didn’t really have a mouth with which to do so. Still, he collected the hearts and stored them somewhere safe. They were necessary for something. The woman with the horns praised him for this. Her praise meant nothing to him, yet he kept doing what he’d been doing. The hearts were important. The woman wanted them to make herself “perfect”. A small part of him wondered if they could make him perfect too. Or perhaps he was too far gone.

He’d sometimes wander the studio, although he did prefer to stay on level 14. It was comforting and familiar in the dark labyrinths. He stayed in the domain he knew to be the horned woman’s. There was Something in the studio that he knew he shouldn’t go near. Something that could distort his body even further, or perhaps even end his existence. He didn’t want to be twisted further, but dying? Well, that actually sounded rather nice.  


	17. Sacrifice!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally, Cordelia doesn't have a problem sacrificing trespassers. But this one is different.

The 18th Sacrifice!, so I had to get some of that Sammy flavor in there. But I didn’t want to make it outright Sammy. So I did Acolyte!Cordelia and Joshua. 

Joshua belongs to [Gears112](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fusers%2FGears112%2Fpseuds%2FGears112&t=YzljYmMxZDBhNzZjNTIyODVkYTA1YWY3ZGEwYzQ2MThjN2IxOTQ5YixqTlRPS1ZoUw%3D%3D&b=t%3Abf1mUcY3jG5LyWt2YecXMQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fqueenofcats17.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F179165462655%2Fbatim-inktober-18&m=0)

* * *

She owed Sammy Lawrence her life. He’d dragged her from the ink, reminded her who she was. He protected her from the dangers of the studio, the Angel, the Butcher Gang. She would do anything for him. So why was she hesitating now? They’d caught a new trespasser, Sammy knocking him out and tying him up. He’d told Cordelia to deal with the interloper. The underlying message was clear. The man was to be a sacrifice for their Lord. Sammy was hoping things would go better this time around. Their attempt to sacrifice the traitor Henry hadn’t gone over too well with Bendy. Sammy hadn’t died, none of them could die, but his ink had been dispersed for a time. It had taken forever for him to reform after that. They’d decided Bendy had been angry that they’d tried to deal with him themselves. Henry was Bendy’s to destroy. This one seemed like a random person who’d wandered in. And Sammy had told her he didn’t recognize the man at all.

She’d sacrificed trespassers before. It shouldn’t have been a problem. But when she saw the man’s face, she faltered. There was something familiar about his features. She stood in front of him, the ax at her side. She reached out, tracing the patterns inked on his skin. Where had she seen him before? It certainly hadn’t been at the studio. She didn’t remember much, but she was pretty sure Joey had a ‘no tattoo’ policy. Still, the man’s tattoos were beautiful. Whoever had done them obviously had a great deal of artistic skill.

“Who are you?” She whispered, leaning in close. To her surprise, the man’s eyes snapped open and he pressed his lips to hers. Her immediate instinct was to shriek, to pull away. But she didn’t. She could feel a warmth swelling in her chest. Kissing him felt like coming home. Like she was safe.

“I missed you.” He said when he pulled away. Cordelia was left stunned, unable to conjure up words. But she knew one thing. Whoever this man was, she’d missed him too. He smiled fondly at her, seeming completely at ease despite being tied to a post. She wracked her brain for a name to put to the face. She knew him. She had to. Finally, a name surfaced.

“Joshua?”

“You remembered my name.” Joshua’s smile widened. “Henry said you seemed pretty out of it when he was here. I was honestly a little scared you were actually going to sacrifice me.”

“W-Who’s to say I won’t?” Cordelia felt her face beginning to heat up as she stumbled back. “My prophet says you’re to be a sacrifice! A tithe to appease our Lord!” She wanted to deny these surfacing feelings. She knew who she was! Didn’t she?

Joshua snorted. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He never did like me.”

“Wait, he  _knows_  you?” Sammy had told her he didn’t know the trespasser. He wouldn’t have lied to her. They didn’t lie to each other.

“Well, he knows of me,” Joshua said. “I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked other than the times he cornered me to try and intimidate me out of dating you. Apparently, I’m a ‘bad influence’.” Cordelia couldn’t help but giggle a little. That did sound like Sammy. He could be so overprotective sometimes.

“Would you mind untying me?” Joshua asked. “I mean, I don’t mind BDSM, but I’d rather not do it while we’re in a hell studio populated by ink creatures.” Cordelia blushed, making a small embarrassed noise.

“You’re lucky Sammy’s not here.” She huffed as she started to untie him. “He’d yell at you for bringing up such ‘impure’ subjects.”

“It’s not my fault he makes it so easy to get a rise out of him.” Joshua chuckled. Cordelia sighed and shook her head. This felt…good. Talking with him like this, it felt familiar. Vague memories were beginning to surface. Memories of going places with him, holding his hand, trying to convince Sammy not to kill him on sight.

“It’s good to see you.” Joshua took her hands in his, or tried to. She didn’t exactly have hands anymore. He took the goopy appendages in his hands at the very least.

“Is…Is Roy okay?” She asked quietly. If Joshua knew her, then he had to know Roy.

“He’s…Been better.” Joshua replied hesitantly. “He’s really worried and he misses you a lot.”

“He’s not by himself, is he?”

“No. I don’t know if you remember Chris, but he’s been helping Roy through this.” Joshua assured her. “He’s not alone.” Cordelia nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. She’d been so worried.

“But I know he’d like to see you again,” Joshua added. “I came here to get you back and I’m not going to leave without you.” Cordelia seemed to consider this for a moment or two before quietly asking,

“Can we…Can we bring Sammy with us?”

“Sure. Nancy’d probably like to see him again. Although he probably won’t be happy about having to travel with me.”

“He’ll get over it,” Cordelia replied without missing a beat. Joshua laughed and shook his head.

“Yeah. I guess he will.”


	18. Devil's Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy and Jack do some song-writing.

The 19th was Devil’s Swing, and I wanted to do something involving Jack and Sammy’s friendship. 

* * *

Sammy had fallen asleep at his desk. Actually, from the look of it, it looked as though he’d slept at his desk overnight. Again. Jack sighed to himself, shaking his head. Grant and Henry were rubbing off on Sammy too much. Honestly, it was like the whole studio was full of workaholics. They had actual work to do right now. Jack walked over, setting the papers Joey had given him down on the desk. Then he leaned down, took a deep breath, and…

“SAMMY!”

“AGH!” Sammy bolted awake, nearly falling out of his chair. He looked around wildly, trying to figure out who had woken him up. His gaze finally landed on Jack’s smirking face.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty~”

“You’re an asshole, Jack.”

“Hey, it’s your fault for falling asleep at your desk instead of going home like a normal person.” Jack shrugged. “I’m guessing you got caught up in composing again.” Color rose to Sammy’s cheeks and he sputtered in a way that told Jack he was right.

“Anyway,” Jack continued without missing a beat. “We’ve got work to do.” Sammy let out an imperceptible sigh of relief at this shift into business mode, scooting over to get a look at the papers Jack had put on his desk.

“What does Joey need this time?” He asked.

“We need to write a song for the upcoming episode,” Jack explained. “It’s going to be an Alice episode, so that should give you at least a little incentive.”

“As if I need any incentive to do my job,” Sammy muttered, although Jack did catch him smiling fondly at the concept art for the episode. “What’s the episode about anyway?”

“Well, the synopsis Joey gave me says that it’s about Bendy trying to teach Alice to loosen up and have a little fun,” Jack said. “The song is supposed to be Bendy showing Alice all the fun there is in the world, especially in dancing. Joey has a title and everything.”

“Sounds like he has everything all planned out.” The bitterness was readily apparent in Sammy’s voice. “It’s not like I wanted to have creative freedom. Nooo.”

“C’mon, let’s write this song. You can sulk later.” Jack put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can even work up the courage to ask Susie to have lunch with you today.” Sammy gave Jack a look, which made the lyricist smirk at him. “You haven’t been all that subtle in your pining.”

“I’m in Hell. This is Hell.” Sammy groaned, resting his head on the desk.

“Oh, trust me, it could be worse.” Jack patted his back. “She could actually be aware of that fact that you’re head over heels for her. Lucky for you, she’s been too busy being social to notice.”

Sammy groaned loudly. “Please. Let’s just work on the song.”

“Are you sure?” Jack grinned.

“Yes. I won’t complain for the rest of this, just please don’t mention Susie again.”

“Sure thing, pal.”

The writing session went as well as it usually did. They worked quietly, for the most part, pausing at intervals to have the other check what they’d been doing. Once they were done, they had a finished song. One they might have even been proud of.

“Devil’s Swing, huh?” Sammy murmured, looking over their completed music. “This might actually be good.”

“Everything we do together is good.” Jack slapped Sammy’s back. “Now let’s get this to Joey.”


	19. Bleed Through The Page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bendy likes to draw

Today is Bleed through the page. I decided to set it in [@disneyphantomlover](https://tmblr.co/mtxWKjFluVA2ChP3UkW9yuw)‘s [False Protagonists AU](http://disneyphantomlover.tumblr.com/tagged/false-protagonists-au), focusing on Bendy.

* * *

Sometimes, Bendy felt the urge to draw. He knew exactly where this urge came from, but he preferred not to dwell on its origin. It wasn’t uncommon for Henry to come downstairs and find Bendy scribbling away on the floor, sheets of paper scattered all around him. What Bendy drew varied wildly on his emotional state and what he’d done that day. Once, when Becca had shown him, Alice, and Boris The Wizard of Oz, Bendy had spent the whole day drawing pictures of him and his friends as characters from the movie. Alice was Dorothy, of course, Boris was the Cowardly Lion, or wolf in this case, Bendy himself was Toto, Becca was both Glinda and Auntie Em, and Henry got to be Uncle Henry. He’d drawn sketches of some of the former studio members as the other characters but had quickly crossed out their faces and threw the drawings away. Henry later fished them out, looking over the drawings. There was Wally as the Scarecrow, Sammy Wes as the Tin Man, Susie as the Wicked Witch of the West, and Joey as the Wizard. Henry smiled softly at the drawings. He knew better than to ask Bendy about them, better not to open old wounds, but he was definitely going to keep them.

One thing Bendy especially liked doing was copying what Henry was drawing. Henry had various old animation cells and concept art for various episodes that Bendy would find and take out. He’d run over to Henry, hold up whatever it was, and ask to hear all about it. His favorites to draw were unused concepts for episodes that never saw the light of day. Sometimes he’d even write up his own script and drag Alice and Boris into performing it with him. Boris made a big deal about not wanting to act out what Bendy wrote, but if Henry or Becca told him he didn’t really have to do it, he’d snap back,

“ **No, I’m gonna.** ”

This usually led to Becca and Alice giggling to themselves and whispering about how Boris was secretly a softie. Something Boris would vehemently deny.

Today, Bendy had found some concept art for an episode and was bringing it to Henry, as per usual. He ran up to Henry’s desk, where the old animator was chewing on the end of his pencil as he tried to get a pose right.

“ ** _Henry!_** ” Bendy tugged on Henry’s shirt. Henry looked over, his frustrated scowl morphing into a soft smile.

“Hey, Bendy.” He said, patting the little demon’s head. “What’s up? Did you find something?”

Bendy nodded, holding up the papers he’d found. “ ** _What’s this episode supposed to be about?_** ”

Henry took the papers, shuffling through them. Slowly, his smile faded, replaced by a look of melancholy. Bendy suddenly had a feeling he’d picked up the wrong thing. He’d done that before, found something that elicited bad memories in Henry. He’d been trying to be careful.

“ ** _I’ll put it back,_** ” Bendy said quickly, trying to snatch the offending object away.

“No, it’s fine.” Henry put the papers on the desk and patted his lap. “C’mon. I’ll tell you about it.”

“ ** _You sure?_** ” Bendy asked, holding his tail in his hands. He didn’t want to push Henry. That wasn’t something a good friend would do.  _He wasn’t like Joey._

“I’m sure.” Henry nodded. After a moment of hesitation, Bendy clambered into Henry’s lap and settled comfortably. He always liked when he got to sit on Henry’s lap while Henry explained things.

“This was the last episode I worked on before I left,” Henry explained, a nostalgic look in his eyes. “It wasn’t even a particularly special episode. Just typical shenanigans.”

“ ** _Issat a big inkwell?_** ” Bendy pointed to the character sketch on the page. He was trying not to snicker. The inkwell had such a grumpy expression on its face.

“His name’s Dewey.” Henry chuckled to himself. “He’s based on mean librarians everywhere. The basic gist of the episode was that you caused a little mischief in Dewey’s library and he tried to kick you out.”

“ ** _Did I show ‘im what for?_** ” Bendy asked, looking back at Henry.

“You sure did.” Henry patted his head. Bendy made a proud little noise, wiggling his body like a cat about to pounce.

“ ** _What about this one?_** ” He pointed to another page.

“Oh, that one was a lot of fun. Let me tell you about Canoodle…”

For the moment, the shadow of Joey’s actions was forgotten. But they knew eventually it would be back. It always was.


	20. Blurry Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter what he does, Bertram always seems to get ink all over him.

Today is Blurry Vision, and Bertram is one of the few characters who seems to have glasses in nearly every incarnation.

* * *

 

“Damn it all,” Bertram muttered, taking off his glasses. This blasted studio. No matter where he went, he always got ink all over him. He’d thought that attraction storage at least would be free of leakage, but it always seemed to find a way to hit him when he least expected it. This was going to be Hell to clean off his glasses. Grumbling to himself, he headed to one of the employee bathrooms. Water usually did the trick of getting the ink off, and he could always dry them on his shirt. It was still mostly clean since he’d taken it off the work on the machines. He passed by the warehouse employees, all of whom were goofing around as usual. Bertram made a small huff of disapproval. He had half a mind to tell them off but decided against it. Without his glasses, he couldn’t tell which employee was which and he didn’t want to go through the debacle of calling an employee by the wrong name again. He’d let Lacie sort them out later. She could always be counted on to set those hooligans straight. There was only one other person in the bathroom when Bertram entered. Wally Franks.

Normally, Bertram had difficulty recognizing people from far away when he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but there were only 2 people in the studio with hair quite that bright red, and Shawn didn’t come down to Bertram’s level. Unlike most people in the studio, Bertram didn’t have strong feelings regarding the janitor. Wally could be lazy and absentminded, but he was generally a respectful and compassionate young man. He, at the very least, had the decency to call Bertram ‘Mr. Piedmont’ when addressing him. The janitor turned around when Bertram entered.

“Heya, Mr. Piedmont.” He said brightly. He too was covered in ink, which wasn’t unusual given everything that Wally did at the studio. What was strange, however, was the fact that the stall he was currently standing in seemed to be covered in ink as well.

“Mr. Franks, is there ink coming out of that toilet?” Bertram asked, hoping to God it was ink and not something else.

“Sure is.” Wally nodded. Part of Bertram let out a sigh of relief. But it raised another issue.

“Please tell me the faucet will still produce water.” Bertram sighed. “I’m very much not in the mood to drench myself in more ink.”

“I mean, I think it still works.” Wally shuffled over to one of the sinks, turning the knob. The liquid that came out seemed to be clear, at least from where Bertram was standing.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Wally turned around and Bertram assumed the janitor was giving him a big smile. He muttered a thank you, going to the sink and rinsing off his glasses. He could hear Wally banging about in the toilet behind him. Wally was a semi-competent mechanic, but Bertram still couldn’t help but be afraid the toilet was going to explode and cover him in ink again. Thankfully, the toilet did not actually explode. Although, Wally was still trying to figure out how to get the toilet to stop spitting ink when Bertram finished cleaning his glasses.

“Perhaps you should get Mr. Connor to take a look at that,” Bertram suggested, putting his glasses back on.

“C’mon, not you too!” Wally whined. “I don’t need to go crying to Thomas every time something goes wrong! I can do this myself!”

“He is employed as a mechanic for a reason, you know.”

“I’m a mechanic too! Sorta.”

“I was quite certain you were a janitor.”

“Well, yeah, but I do mechanic stuff too!” Wally folded his arms, getting a look on his face that very much resembled a pout. The only reason he was tasked with dealing with mechanical difficulties was that Joey didn’t have the resources to hire a lot of experience mechanics and Wally had basic mechanical knowledge. This was something Wally was perfectly aware of. But it made him feel important to be asked to deal with the machines.

“There’s no shame in asking for help, you know,” Bertram said. He would have patted Wally’s back, but he didn’t want to get any more ink on him.

“Yeah yeah,” Wally muttered. Bertram shrugged and turned to leave, but Wally’s soft voice stopped him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.” Bertram nodded back to the janitor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be getting back to my machines.” He made his way back through the warehouse, noting with a smirk that Lacie had indeed emerged from her workshop to yell at the lollygagging employees. It was good to know there was  _someone_  in the studio with a good work ethic.

.

_He couldn’t really see anything anymore. He’d long since lost his glasses. It wasn’t as though anyone entered his prison, though. There was no one for him to see. But someone would come eventually. Joey Drew was an egotistical bastard. Sooner or later, Joey would come to gloat. And then…Then Bertram would be ready. He would have his revenge._


	21. Wolf's Sonata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Borises sing.

Yesterday was Wolf’s Sonata, so I had to write something about the Borises. 

* * *

Boris had been created to be a musically inclined character. Bendy danced so someone needed to play music for him. As the friendship between Boris and Bendy developed, there came more excuses for Boris to play music. Sammy had certainly enjoyed writing for Boris, drawing on some of his own favorites in order to make Boris’ songs appealing. Boris’ melodies were bouncy and lively, real toe-tappers. The reason Henry was thinking of this was because the Boris he’d met in the studio played music. He wasn’t nearly as proficient as the Boris in the cartoons, though. His attempts at playing the banjo were clumsy at best, but he obviously liked the idea of it. His enthusiasm made Henry feel just a little bit better about his situation. He himself couldn’t play an instrument for shit, something Linda had always teased him about, but he was more than happy to help Boris.

“We can try together.” He said. Boris didn’t have a tail, but Henry was sure if he did it would have been wagging. And so, deep down in that safehouse, the two of them fumbled their way through scavenged sheet music. It was almost familiar, in a way. Henry had never been present for it, but he knew Wally had been taking lessons from Sammy. Which instrument, he didn’t know, but he’d heard Wally and Sammy arguing about Wally’s technique. Not for the first time, Henry wondered what had happened to Wally. He had some naïve hope that Wally had made it out. But he knew better. As he watched Boris try and get the hang of a certain measure, tongue stuck out in thought, Henry wondered if this Boris was someone he knew. He didn’t want to think about it, but he had to. He had to face what Joey had done.

“You’re doing great, buddy.” Henry forced a smile and patted Boris’ back. Boris gave him a big smile before returning to the banjo. Henry decided to let him be for now. There was no need to talk about the past at the moment. They could be happy, just for a little. If he had Boris by his side, he felt like he could actually make it through this.

.

.

Thomas was singing. It wasn’t something he did particularly often, and he wasn’t all that good at it, but it helped. His mother had sung to him when he’d been young. She would come home late at night after working all day, often finding him waiting up for her. She’d take him into her lap, stroking his hair and singing softly. It had just been the two of them, alone in that little shack they called a home. Part of him still missed those days. His mother had been a wonderful woman. As he sat at the edge of the abyss, singing into the darkness, he found himself crying. He was surprised. He hadn’t known he  _could_  cry anymore. His singing slowly petered off until he was crying in silence. He’d never loved his shitty apartment, but thinking back on it now, it seemed like paradise compared to the studio.

“Are you alright?” He felt Allison’s hand on his shoulder. If he’d ever had a daughter, he would have liked for her to be like Allison.

“No.” He said, head down. “I’m not. Doubt any of us are.”

“Good point.” Allison laughed wearily, settling beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. They stared into the darkness together. Then Allison began to sing. It was a lullaby, like the one Thomas had been singing. He had to admit, he could understand why Joey had given her the Alice Angel role. She really did have the voice of an angel. When Allison sang, she gave people hope.

“Thank you,” Thomas muttered when she’d finished. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” Allison gently bumped her head against his shoulder. “We gotta stick together, right?”

“Right.” Thomas let out a short barking laugh. “I swear, you’re too good for this place, kid.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She said in her best impersonation of Susie Campbell. This elicited another laugh from Thomas.

“C’mon, let’s get moving.” He got to his feet, groaning as he did. His body might not have had the aches and pains of middle age anymore, but he still acted as though it did. Allison got up as well, drawing her sword before they descended deeper into the studio, humming as they went.


	22. Life Is Slipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey is far more mortal than he'd like

Today was Life is slipping, and I went with Joey. Featuring mention of my OC, Esther Drew. I wanted Joey to have some kind of family. 

Some of this is inspired by [@halfusek](https://tmblr.co/mAf3vdzc4wXYCzWCxKkU7dA)‘s Joey artwork. 

* * *

 

When Joey had been diagnosed with polio, it had felt like his life was over. There was no cure for it, and while it might not outright kill him, he knew he would never be the same afterward. He’d be bound to a wheelchair, a cripple. No one would ever take him seriously again. He almost wanted to reach out to his sister, his parents. Henry was gone, and he didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to lose himself all alone. He’d always dreaded losing his independence and being forced to rely on others. He needed total control of everything, especially his own body. It had driven his parents and Esther crazy when he’d been young, and it continued to drive his employees crazy. But he refused to relinquish control of anything, not while he still had the ability to function. So, Joey did what he always did when confronted with something he didn’t like. He buried it, forgot about it, pushed it away so that he wouldn’t have to think about it. And for a bit, that worked. He continued on trying to ensure the survival of his studio by any means necessary. But the threat of his illness still lingered in the back of his mind, promising it would rear its head when he least expected it. And it did.

It had been in a staff meeting with the leaders of each division. The current head animator whose name Joey had never bothered to learn  _because he’d never be Henry_ , Sammy, Grant, Thomas, Bertram. There might have been others, but those were the ones Joey remembered. The topic of the meeting escaped him. He’d been barely holding it together for weeks, forcing himself to move and push through the sudden weakness his muscles were experiencing. He couldn’t let himself fall. He couldn’t become weak. He’d been in the middle of some presentation when the world had begun to swim around him. He’d tried to remain conscious, tried to fight it, but the next thing he knew he was crashing to the ground. When he woke up, he was in the hospital. Sammy was there, as well as Grant and, surprisingly, Bertram. All Joey had to do was look at Sammy to know that he’d been found out.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sammy asked. He sounded so defeated. Joey had never considered the two of them to be friends, but it was obvious Sammy had been at least a little worried about him.

“I didn’t think it was relevant.” Joey tried to summon up some kind of venom, but he found his reserves all dried up. It felt as though he was a shell of his former self, a fate he’d always feared.

“Mr. Drew, it would have been nice if you’d informed us of this sooner instead of trying to force yourself beyond your limits.” Grant stood by his bed, looking far more disapproving than he ever had before. And Joey had been the recipient of many disapproving looks from Grant.

“I don’t suppose you’re about to lecture me about how much this visit will cost?” Joey managed a weak smile.

“Mr. Piedmont volunteered to pay for this out of pocket.” Grant continued. “So, you should thank him.” Joey’s eyes widened, then he frowned and looked at Bertram.

“I am not fond of you, Drew, but even you don’t deserve to suffer like this,” Bertram said calmly. There was a look in his eyes that Joey had seen in others, one he’d come to hate. Pity.

“Thank you,  _Bertie_.” He smiled through gritted teeth. How dare Bertram pity him?! He wasn’t some child to be looked down upon! Bertram’s pitying glance remained, tinged only momentarily by anger.

“I’ll be going back to the studio now.” He announced, adjusting his tie. “I have work to do.” He left without another word, leaving Joey alone with Grant and Sammy. He could feel the pity in their gazes as well.

“I should get going too.” Sammy got up from his chair. “Gotta make sure Wally didn’t accidentally flood my office again.” Then it was just Grant and Joey. Joey’s whole body was shaking, both from anger and barely contained sobs.

“Mr. Drew-” Grant began, reaching out for Joey.

“Don’t touch me,” Joey growled, not looking up. His gaze was firmly on his lap, focused on his legs. He’d been losing feeling in them for a long time now. He probably couldn’t even walk anymore.

“Mr. Drew, we need to talk about this,” Grant said firmly.

“No, we don’t.” Joey snapped. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You can’t just pretend this isn’t happening.” Grant insisted. “This will change things at the studio.” Joey knew he was right. This would change things. It would change everything. Joey’s grip on the sheets tightened. Somehow, his hands had balled into fists. He would find some way to fix this, he had to.

When he got back to the studio, things were different. He could feel the looks of pity his employees gave him when he rolled by in his wheelchair. He seldom left his office anymore. It was too hard to get around the studio in his condition. He threw himself into his research. He’d already set his plan of bringing his creations to life via the Ink Machine into motion. The ink flowed through the studio, full of dark magic. He would make his creations live, yes, but he was also going to cure himself now. The ink had to have some way to free him of his mortal body. The more he researched, the surer he became. This would help him live forever. This would help him reclaim the life that was slipping away from him. His dreams were going to come true. No matter what.


	23. Stained Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry can't seem to get the ink off.

Today was Stained Skin. I decided to focus on Henry, and some more of his relationship with Boris. 

Some inspiration was taken from [@doberart](https://tmblr.co/mqYFEH5_unAZi6uYYy-EYBg)‘s comic [here](http://doberart.tumblr.com/post/179394276663/i-feel-like-we-missed-our-chance-to-have-some)

* * *

Henry had long since given up trying to get the ink off of his skin and clothing. He’d tried to wash himself off in the safe house he and Boris had been in, and that had worked for at least a little, but as soon as he’d left he’d ended up covered in ink once again. At this point, he’d just resigned himself to being covered in ink.

“There’s no escaping the ink, huh, buddy?” Henry glanced back at Boris. He’d just come back from collecting ink from the Swollen Searchers, which had involved getting a lot of ink on himself. Boris’ expression grew rather solemn and he nodded gravely.

“My, Henry, it seems you know more about the studio than I thought.” Alice’s voice came through the speakers, sickeningly sweet as always.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked. He was rather sure he didn’t like her tone of voice.

“Once the ink has you in its clutches, it never lets go,” Alice said. “It’s already begun to change you. Surely you’ve noticed.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Henry shook his head. He was so done with this studio. He just wanted to get out and get back to Linda. It had been a mistake to come back here.

“Oh, that’s cute.” Alice snickered. “You’re in denial.”

“The only person who’s in denial is you,” Henry muttered under his breath. There was a beat of silence before his ears were assaulted by Alice’s screech.

“How dare you talk to me like that?! I am an angel!”

“I’m married to an angel. You pale in comparison.” Henry replied dryly. Boris stared at him for a moment before starting to laugh quietly. Alice said nothing for a good long while until the elevator reached floor 9.

“Don’t make me drop that elevator.” She snarled from the speakers. “Because I will.” Henry just shrugged, stepping out of the elevator to place the ink into the box Alice had provided. The ticket booth turned to reveal a plunger.

“Take it and gather me valve cores,” Alice said, sounding just tired now. “Don’t test me any further.” Henry just smiled cheekily up at the cameras he knew Alice was watching from before heading back to the elevator. In truth, he was terrified, but he didn’t want her to know that. If she knew he’d been affected by her words, she would never let him hear the end of it. Something about what she’d said, about the ink changing everything it touched, some part of it rang true. She’d been right, he had been feeling different. After all, Sammy had hit him over the head with a solid metal dustpan, and Henry didn’t seem to have any lasting effects from it. He hadn’t gotten a concussion and his head hadn’t hurt afterward. He’d been completely fine. This clearly wasn’t normal, as Sammy had hit him pretty hard. He glanced back at Boris, who gave him a big goofy smile.

“You’re a good boy,” Henry said, patting the wolf’s head. “Thanks for sticking with me.” Boris tilted his head to the side curiously, as if asking why he wouldn’t have.

“I just…You didn’t have to come with me.” Henry said as the elevator began to ascend. “You could have stayed in the safe house. Where you were safe.” Boris frowned and hugged Henry. It seemed like he was saying that he wasn’t going to abandon Henry, no matter what.

“Thanks, Boris.” Henry smiled softly. “You’re a good friend.” A moment later, the elevator stopped and Henry got off. Boris remained behind, which was definitely for the best. Boris was no fighter. Henry started off, making sure he was around the corner before trying to rub some of the ink off of his skin. He’d tried to do this in the safehouse, with limited success. He had even less success now. The ink remained stubbornly stained on his skin.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” He whispered to himself. He didn’t want to turn into a monster like the others he’d met in the studio. He especially didn’t want to turn up like Alice. He imagined Susie Campbell had been a decent woman. The recording in the band room had certainly painted that picture. Sammy had been a good man once too. Before all this. Henry twisted his wedding ring on his finger. It was a miracle he hadn’t lost it. Linda had told him not to come back.

“You left for a reason, Henry.” She’d said. “There’s nothing for you there.”

“I know, but-”

“But nothing.” Linda cut him off, her brow furrowed in concern. “Henry, please. Don’t go.” He should have listened to her. She’d never liked Joey. She’d met the man maybe once or twice and had immediately decided he was dangerous. She’d been righter than she knew, although even she couldn’t have predicted what he’d found.

“I’ll come back to you, Linda, I promise.” He hefted the plunger. He was getting out of here. He had to.


	24. Set Me Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope is all they have

Today is Set me free, so it’s a Sammy story~

* * *

Hope was a precious commodity in Joey Drew Studios, sought after and coveted by its inky inhabitants. If you wanted to survive the studio with your mind at least slightly intact, you had to cling to it as though it were a lifeline. Sammy preached it to his flock, as though his words alone could save their souls.

“He will set us free.” He told them. There were some who doubted his faith, but he stood firm. He had to believe what he said. The alternative was altogether too frightening. If he lost his hope, what would happen to him then? Would he become like the Angel? The Searchers? He needed some stability, some way to ground himself. He preached, and his flock listened. He’d found them one by one, wandering the studio halls. They’d been lost, afraid, just as he had been. Many didn’t know their names; didn’t know why they were there. He soothed them, assuring them that the memories would come back. It wasn’t a guarantee, not really. Some regained their memories, while others didn’t. But Sammy gave them the hope to continue. They made a home, deep in the studio, getting by as best they could. Sammy visited on occasion, but he never stayed long. He was most comfortable in the music department. He spent most of his time there, praying to his Lord. Sometimes he talked to Jack. Jack wasn’t much in the way of conversation anymore, but it felt good to talk to something regardless.

“My faith is justified, isn’t it?” Sammy murmured as he sat hunched at his desk. “I just have to believe, and he will set us free, won’t he?” He received no answer from Jack, only moans, although it wasn’t as though he’d expected a response.

“I must have faith.” Sammy shook his head. “I must not waver.” This was all he had left. He couldn’t lose this too. Jack moaned, resting his head on Sammy’s lap. Sammy’s expression softened, one hand coming down to pat Jack’s hat. He’d always loved that hat. It had been a birthday gift from Jack’s father when he’d graduated from college. Jack had been so happy. If Sammy really concentrated, he could still remember his friend’s face. At least, he thought he could. Little details stood out. His freckles, the way he smiled. But bigger details remained elusive. What color had Jack’s hair been? What did his eyes look like? Sammy leaned down, enfolding Jack in a hug. Their ink melded together for a moment until Sammy pulled away.

“We have work to do, Jack.” He said, trying to make himself smile. “We must appease our Lord.” Jack drew back, nodding almost imperceptibly. Sammy put his mask back on.

_“He will hear us. He will set us free.”_


	25. Pentagram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn should have seen the signs sooner

Today is Pentagram and I decided to make it a Shawn day~

* * *

 

Shawn had been taught from a very young age not to meddle with forces beyond his control. He was Irish, after all, and there were certain things that all Irish people understood. You never messed with magic, nor demons. Shawn knew when to get out, at least usually. In hindsight, he really should have paid more attention to what had been going on in the studio. To Joey himself. The signs had been there all along. Joey had been showing an increasing interest in black magic, which he only vaguely concealed. There had been that damn Ink Machine too, and all that talk about belief and dreams. Everyone knew something was happening. But Shawn had been consumed with his work. The demand for the dolls was drying up, but he kept making them per Joey’s request.

“Y’sure this is a good idea?” He asked when Joey came to check on his progress. “They’re not exactly sellin’ like they used to.”

“Have faith, Mr. Flynn.” Joey gave him a big smile. “They’ll sell. Just keep making them.”

“If you say so.” Shawn shrugged, returning to his work. He should have known, should have seen the signs. Maybe he’d just been too tired. Joey had worked all of them ragged in the last days of the studio. They’d run entirely on coffee, even more than usual. Sleep was something they’d forgotten.

The last thing Shawn ever saw was a pentagram. Joey had called him to his office and Shawn expected it would be over something stupid. Joey seemed to live for finding reasons to yell at people nowadays. They’d all gotten used to it, although Grant’s nerves were properly shot by this point.

“Mr. Drew?” Shawn knocked on his door, cautious despite himself. No one answered.

“Mr. Drew.” Shawn knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing. As Shawn drew his fist back, ready to slam it into the door, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“There you are, Mr. Flynn.” Joey’s soft voice filled the hallway. “I apologize for my tardiness. I had to…Take care of something.” He brushed past Shawn, fitting his key into the lock. His movements were fluid and smooth, quite unlike the way his body usually behaved. It was as though Joey Drew was a new man. Immediately, alarm bells went off in Shawn’s head. But he didn’t run, not yet. His body seemed frozen. As Joey turned on the lights, Shawn could see ink covering him. And was that…blood? Shawn turned to run, but Joey caught him, dragging him back in.

“Mr. Flynn, how rude.” Joey chuckled. He had a hand over Shawn’s mouth, stifling all screams. Shawn struggled, but Joey’s grip was iron firm. He dragged the toymaker back and into a pentagram in the middle of the room. Joey drew a knife, allowing Shawn to gaze upon the twisted steel. It was like no knife he’d ever seen before. Joey hummed happily as he pressed the knife to Shawn’s throat.

“This might hurt a little.” He said. Shawn barely had time to register this before the knife flashed and blood was pouring from his slit throat. Joey let Shawn fall to the ground, watching dispassionately as the toymaker writhed in the pentagram, making small noises as he tried to cling to life. There was no use in fighting it. Soon enough, Shawn stopped moving. Joey’s smile widened. Now he could begin.

“You’ll make a fine Charley, Mr. Flynn.”


	26. Dreams Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by my playthrough of Chapter 5, so it might have some spoilers

Today is Dreams Come True, and since I’m still having feelings about Chapter 5, I decided to write that. 

This is based on[ these](https://toonybrue.tumblr.com/post/179474114868/ok-so-my-lil-theory-on-chapter-5-this-whole) [two](https://aquaticember06.tumblr.com/post/179460735193/thoughts-on-bendy-chapter-5-a-bit-obvious-but) theories.

* * *

 

Joey was a man of dreams. Dreams were what had carried him to where he was today. Dreams were what had kept him going. There had been so many times when he’d wanted to give up, when he’d wanted to just walk away from it all. His dreams had given him the strength to keep moving forward. But dreams could only get you so far. Dreams couldn’t pay the bills, dreams couldn’t keep his employees happy, dreams couldn’t keep his studio from failing. He’d been so naïve to think he could do it on his own. Or maybe he’d just been that stubborn. Henry had left. Joey had been upset, of course, but Henry had managed to calm him.

“I’m not walking away from our friendship, Joey,” Henry said, a hand on Joey’s shoulder. “I just want to try something else.”

“But what will I do without you?” Joey asked.

“There are plenty of competent animators out there, I’m sure you’ll find someone to replace me,” Henry assured him. “Besides, the studio’s doing well enough that you can probably afford to hire more than one animator.”

“I…I guess you’re right.” Joey nodded. And then Henry turned and walked out the door. True to his word, he hadn’t walked away from their friendship. Henry still called every week to make sure Joey was getting enough sleep, he and Linda sent Christmas cards. Henry was still in his life. But…He’d started to push Henry away. As the studio got bigger, as he hired more people, part of him began to resent Henry for walking away. This was  _their_ studio. They’d started it together. So, he stopped answering Henry’s calls, although he never threw away the cards. He focused on making the studio bigger, better. On making it something amazing! He started dreaming bigger, reaching higher. The sky was the limit! He just had to believe! He started merchandising, he set his sights on a theme park, he expanded the studio, he enlisted the services of Gent industries to make him a machine to produce figures. Everything seemed to be falling into place until…

“The studio is failing.”

Joey looked up as Grant slammed a stack of papers onto his desk. The accountant perpetually looked tired and haggard, but the bags under his eyes were much darker than usual.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Joey smiled self-assuredly. “Sure, we’ve had a rough year, but it can’t be that bad.”

“Mr. Drew, with all due respect, that’s utter bullshit,” Grant said, resting his hands on the desk so that he and Joey were looking each other in the eye. “We’ve had more than a rough year. The studio is hemorrhaging money. The toys aren’t selling, switching the voice actresses hasn’t made Alice any more popular, I can’t find any reason to justify trying to build a theme park, and that’s just the start of it.”

Joey had never been particularly good with numbers. He’d relied on Henry for that quite a bit, and when Henry left he’d hired Grant. He’d been reckless in the past few years in terms of money, he’d admit that. Despite minor setbacks, such as Susie throwing a fit and leaving along with quite a lot of his other employees and Bertram making some long-winded declaration before ending their partnership, he’d been riding high on his previous success. Grant gestured to the files on Joey’s desk. Muttering some curses to himself, Joey picked up the files, shuffling through them. Soon, Joey felt his stomach beginning to sink. Grant was right. The studio  _was_  failing.

“How…This can’t be happening.” Joey murmured.

“Mr. Drew-” Grant began to say something, perhaps wishing to offer guidance, but Joey cut him off.

“Go.” He said. “Just…I need some time.” Grant closed his mouth, nodded, and left. Joey buried his head in his hands. There had to be some way to make this work. There had to be some way he could turn this around. Suddenly, though, there was a knock on his office door.

“Go away.” He groaned. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Not even for your old friend?”

Joey looked up abruptly to see Henry standing in the doorway to his office. Joey’s breath caught in his throat. He stumbled to his feet.

“H-Henry, what are you-?”

“You stopped answering my calls,” Henry said, shrugging and smiling wearily. “I got worried. I’m glad I decided to come. You seem like you’re in a tough spot.”

“I…” Joey stood there, staring at his oldest and dearest friend. Henry hadn’t abandoned him. Henry had come back.

“I need help.” He finally managed to gasp out. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

It had all ended when Henry had come back, although looking back, it had been headed for Hell for a long time. When Susie had quit, she’d taken quite a few disgruntled animators and band members with her. Then Shawn had quit, and that had been a spectacle to be sure. Joey had come to yell at him about painting the smiles on the dolls crooked and Shawn had snapped. Joey hadn’t even known half the curse words the toymaker had used. Wally had gotten a better paying job a couple months after they’d started up the amusement park, surreptitiously handing in his two weeks and finally getting ‘outta there’. Joey got a letter from him years later talking about how he’d moved to Florida and gotten married. Bertram had left nearly six months before the actual studio closure, saying something about the project not being at all worth it. He’d taken Lacie with him when he left since she was the most competent mechanic the studio had. Those were just the important players. Many employees had been leaving, the studio had been falling into disrepair…Joey had been the only one who hadn’t seen the inevitable end.

The employees who hadn’t left when the studio closed moved on to other things. Sammy, for all his complaining, had stuck with them to the very end, despite having gotten quite a few other job offers. He and Jack had gone on to work at a different animation studio. Sammy didn’t send Joey letters, but occasionally he’d send Henry a Christmas card and ask how his family was doing. Thomas and Allison had left together, having grown close in their time at the studio. Joey got an invitation to their wedding a year after the studio closed. Grant went to work at a bank or something. He hadn’t told Joey what he was doing and Joey got the feeling that the accountant was more than happy to distance himself.

Which left Joey. After the studio had closed…He hadn’t been sure what to do with himself. He’d thrown himself into trying to make the characters he and Henry had created real. If Henry hadn’t come along…He wasn’t sure what he would have done. He looked back on his time as the head of the studio and found himself horrified by the way he’d behaved. If Henry hadn’t been there, he might have created a monster. He didn’t tell Henry about the self-loathing he held onto, but it made its way into the stories he told Henry’s daughter, Hope.

“Tell me another one, Uncle Joey!” She said while sitting on his knee. She said this despite the fact that he always told her the same story. The story of how Henry had saved the studio, had saved  _him_. He’d told it a thousand times, varying it a little bit each time, but she never seemed to get tired of it.

“Your mother will be here to pick you and your father up soon.” Joey reminded her. “I might not be able to finish the story.”

“You can always finish it the next time we come over,” Henry said from the desk behind them where he was working on a shot that had been giving him trouble. “Maybe it’ll give you some time to think of a new ending.”

_As if he could think of a better ending than the one Henry had given him._

“Please, Uncle Joey?” Hope tugged on the sleeve of his bathrobe. Part of Joey wished he could have found someone to settle down with like Henry had. He was finding he rather enjoyed interacting with children.

“Well,” he cleared his throat and gave her a conspiratorial smile. “It all began when Henry opened the door and entered the studio, wondering just what it was his old friend wanted to show him…”

And so, he told the story he’d told a thousand times before, with Henry throwing in comments every so often. When Linda arrived to take her husband and daughter home, Joey had reached the part of the story where Henry had to complete the tasks of the dastardly Alice Angel.

“You always make Susie the villain.” She sighed. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“She not a bad person.” Hope insisted. “She’s a victim!”

“It’s just a story,” Henry assured his wife. “Besides, the real Susie’s doing pretty well for herself, isn’t she?” It was true. Susie had secured herself some pretty big voice acting roles and hadn’t looked back since. She was a star, just like she’d wanted.

“I guess you have a point.” Linda smiled and kissed Henry, before taking her daughter’s hand. “We’ll see you next week, Joey.”

“I look forward to it.” Joey nodded, smiling back. The Steins departed, leaving Joey alone once more. Joey’s gaze slowly went to the picture on the wall, framed, and signed by Henry. A sketch of Boris, Alice, and Bendy. Joey smiled softly. He’d come a long way since those days, or at least he hoped so. He got to his feet, groaning as he did, before making his way to his bedroom. He needed to finish that book Allison had loaned him. He’d had it for far too long. Their lives weren’t perfect, but they were happy. The demons of the past were neatly packed away, relegated to stories and Joey’s midnight memories. Everyone had moved on. The demon troubled them no longer. And Joey Drew was no cartoon villain. He was just a man.


	27. Quite A Gal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susie knows she's selfish. But she has something to prove

The 28th was Quite a gal, so it’s Susie time again~

Dipping into the [Reunion AU](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fseries%2F917481&t=YjY5ZmMyOTYzNGIyMzJiNTM2ODlkOGFlYmY3NDhmN2U0MzE0ZjJlZSx5WlNlS1pUWA%3D%3D&b=t%3Abf1mUcY3jG5LyWt2YecXMQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fqueenofcats17.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F179473847425%2Fbatim-inktober-28&m=0) again.

* * *

In the beginning, Susie had gotten along with everyone. She’d been shy, sweet, desperate to make this new job work. She’d never done cartoons before and it was exciting. Joey had treated her like a star, had made her feel special. And Sammy…Oh, she’d fallen for Sammy the first time she’d seen him. Susie had been a small-town girl, moving to the big city to get her big break like so many others. Most of the men Susie had encountered in her town hadn’t been terribly well educated, although it wasn’t really their fault. Most couldn’t afford to go to college. But Sammy…Sammy was handsome, smart, charming. His father was a minister, so he came from a good family. Her parents would have loved him. He invited her to his house a few times for dinner, allowing her to meet his family. They’d been dating at the time, albeit rather tentatively. His father was gruff but kind, his mother was a lovely woman, and his sister absolutely idolized her.

“Your family is so wonderful,” Susie remarked as Sammy walked her home one night. “They’ve been so kind.”

“Well, they certainly enjoy having you around.” Sammy gave her a smile. Susie knew she could be selfish. She was the youngest of 8 children born to a poor family. She knew her family had loved her more than anything. But she’d pushed them away in pursuit of her own dreams. And now she was going to try and replace them. She did feel guilty. She’d go back to them eventually, she promised herself. Once she’d made it. Once she’d proven she could handle herself.

“Are you alright?” Sammy asked, noticing she’d gone quiet.

“I’m fine.” She forced herself to smile. “I’m just thinking.”

“About your family?” Sammy knew better than to ask about her family, but she knew he worried. For all the terror he instilled in the hearts of studio employees, he could be so kind to her. She just nodded slightly. That was the end of the conversation.

Alice  _was_  popular, which gave Susie the confidence she thought she needed. She’d been right! She  _could_  be a star! She’d been giddy, letting the success go to her head. She was a star! She started to drift away from Sammy, focusing on her career. He’d always understood that her work came first, although it still hurt a little. But he wanted her to be happy, so he let her do as she pleased. But Susie’s happiness wasn’t meant to last. Alice wasn’t as popular as Joey had been hoping, so he started tweaking things to try and raise the angel’s popularity. One of these changes was swapping Susie out for a younger voice actress. He hoped Allison’s more youthful voice would resonate with people more. He failed to inform Susie of this, however, which led to Susie walking in on Sammy giving Allison her lines.

“Allison? Why are you here?” Susie asked. “I have to do my lines right now.” Maybe she didn’t want to consider that Joey had replaced her, or maybe she was that naïve.

“Mr. Drew didn’t tell you?” Allison asked, glancing nervously at Sammy.

“For fuck’s sake, Joey,” Sammy muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Figures the bastard would leave this to me.”

“Leave what to you?” Susie was quite sure she didn’t like where this was going. She didn’t like how nervous Allison was. The girl was naturally timid and soft-spoken, but she’d never been scared of Susie.

“Allison is going to be voicing Alice Angel from now on,” Sammy said, his expression softening as he stepped towards her.

“What?”

“Allison is-”

“N-No. I heard you the first time.” Susie forced herself to smile shakily. “But…Why? Have I not been doing a good enough job?”

“I don’t know.” Sammy tried to put a hand on Susie’s shoulders, but she brushed them off. “It was Joey’s decision, not mine.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Campbell," Allison said quietly. Susie said nothing else, slapping away Sammy’s hands and storming out.

Immediately, Susie labeled Allison as “the enemy”. Allison was from a wealthy family. Allison had nothing to prove, no reason to fight or struggle. Allison wasn’t like her. Susie was angry and hurt, lashing out at everyone who tried to help her. She just wanted to be angry. She wanted to hurt others as she’d been hurt. She drove away the people she’d been close to, which only served to drive her deeper into despair. Even Sammy left. He just disappeared one day. This was Joey’s doing, but she didn’t know that. To her, it had seemed as though he’d run away. She could have apologized, could have found strength in Sammy’s family. Instead, she spread poisonous lies about their oldest son. She drove away everyone who could have helped her, opening the door for Joey to manipulate her. Joey himself was someone who also felt he had something to prove. Like Susie, he was desperate to get what he wanted. This didn’t excuse any of their behavior, though. Joey promised her she could have her role back. He promised her she could  **be**  Alice Angel. Susie knew she was selfish. She should have walked away when she had the chance. But she had to prove to her family she’d made the right decision by running away. She’d burned too many bridges to go back now. So, she said yes to Joey. And everyone suffered for it.


	28. Imposter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy Lawrence reformed full of anger and hatred

29th was Imposter, so I decided to draw some inspiration from Chapter 5.

* * *

 

He’d reformed with his mind full of hatred and confusion. How could had this have happened? He’d been faithful, he’d been patient, he’d devoted his unlife to his Lord, and his Lord had betrayed him. What had he done wrong? How had he misstepped? He’d done everything he could to please his Lord and he’d still been betrayed! He’d been lied to! As he pulled himself from the ink, he felt the hatred bubbling in his chest. He’d pushed his feelings away for so long, buried them deep…Deep enough that he didn’t have to think about them. Sammy Lawrence had done his best to keep his mind intact during his time in the studio. He’d tried very hard to never let his emotions get the better of him, lest his form become destabilized. But now…Now his emotions seemed to be boiling over. All the emotions he’d spent so long repressing came rushing up. He didn’t even register where he’d reformed. It didn’t matter. He would find the imposter, the one who’d betrayed him. He didn’t stop to consider who this imposter might be. Regardless of who he actually was, to Sammy this man was now Joey and the Ink Demon, a manifestation of all who had lied to and betrayed him during his time at the studio. He tore his way through the studio, following the trail of destruction left by the one who had betrayed him. He found him on the level where many of his flock made their home. Sammy climbed out of a puddle behind a boarded-up doorway. He could hear the traitor moving around in the village. He seethed, his grip on his ax tightening.

“Sheep sheep sheep.” He whispered. “It’s time for sleep. Time for me to free your head from your shoulders.” He didn’t notice how his voice had begun to distort as he let himself be consumed by his anger. The Lost Ones, hiding in their huts,  _did_  notice. And they were afraid. They didn’t hold much of a grudge against the man making his way through the studio themselves. He hadn’t been hostile towards them, after all. Not like the Angel had been. They didn’t understand why their prophet was so angry. They’d never heard him like this before. He’d been their pillar of stability, the one person who could keep them going. If even he was becoming lost…What hope did they have? But Sammy didn’t consider any of this as he heard the imposter approach.

“BETRAYED! ABANDONED!” He screamed, bursting through the planks. “I trusted you! I gave you everything…And you left me to rot! …Why? WHY?!” The figure before him shifted from Joey to the Ink Demon and back again, always smiling, always grinning even as he stumbled back. Sammy lashed out with his ax, trying desperately to land a blow. But his victim dodged every swipe, every slash, which only served to frustrate Sammy further. He would not be deceived by this imposter. He would not let himself be betrayed again. Eventually, his victim began to fight back, flailing wildly with some kind of pipe. He actually managed to knock Sammy’s mask off, causing the prophet to instinctively cover his face.

“No! Don’t look at me. Stay away…” He retreated, covering his face. He’d long been ashamed of his current appearance. It was a constant reminder of all he’d lost. He ran to one of the shacks, cowering in the doorway. He expected the imposter would pursue, would try to finish him off. Instead, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sammy.” That…That voice wasn’t Joey’s. Nor was it the Ink Demon’s. The Ink Demon never spoke. No! He couldn’t let himself be deceived!

“Don’t touch me!” He shook his head fervently, his voice distorting even more. “You’re a liar!”

“Sammy, I’m sorry.” The voice of the imposter was full of so much pain, so much fatigue. It couldn’t be Joey…Could it?

“You lied to me.” He said, trying to muster up more hatred, more anger. “You said I’d be free.” Suddenly, he felt so tired, so hopeless.

“Joey lied to a lot of people.” The imposter gently turned Sammy around, allowing the prophet to finally see the man he’d been tormenting. There was something familiar about the man’s face. He was short and stocky, with rather generic features and dressed in a plain button up shirt and slacks. He was an altogether unremarkable looking man. But he held such kindness in his eyes.

“I should have come back sooner.” The man continued, a hand still on Sammy’s shoulder. “Maybe I could have stopped this.”

“How presumptuous of you to think you could have prevented any of what transpired here.” Sammy couldn’t help but be a little bit snarky. He wasn’t sure who this man was, but he might have an awfully high opinion of himself to think he could have done anything to stop Joey. The imposter stared at him for a moment, then laughed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He said, his whole body shaking with laughter. “It’s good to see you haven’t changed, Sammy.”

“Haven’t…changed?” It almost sounded as though this man knew him from before.

“Henry? Are you alright?” Sammy scrambled back upon hearing the voice of the Other Angel. He knew very little about the other Alice, but he did know that she was far more willing to get her hands dirty than the one who tortured his flock, and the Boris she traveled with was not one to be messed with. The Boris was indeed giving him a rather nasty look.

“I’m fine.” The imposter, Henry, replied. The Other Alice had her sword raised, eying Sammy warily. Sammy very much wanted his mask back.

“We need to keep moving.” The Alice said.

“Alright.” Henry stood up. “But we’re bringing him with us.”

“Are you sure?” The Alice pursed her lips, glancing at Sammy. “He might be dangerous.”

“He’s my friend,” Henry said firmly, turning back and holding a hand out to Sammy. “I’m not just going to leave him.” Sammy stared at the man’s outstretched hand. Perhaps…Perhaps it had been he who had been the imposter. He’d been pretending to be a prophet this whole time, claiming he could save them all. He’d been wrong. This man…This man could save them. He took Henry’s hand. He would set them free.


	29. Trapped In The Screen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bendy didn't ask for this

Yesterday was Trapped in the screen, and I decided to focus on the plight of our little Ink Demon.

* * *

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. One minute, he’d been happy and going about his day as always, the next he was in a place he didn’t recognize, being yelled at by people he didn’t know. He was Bendy the Dancing Demon, he knew that much. But the smiling man said he was wrong. He was Bendy, yes, but he wasn’t the _right_  kind of Bendy. The smiling man yelled at the angry man about this a lot. The smiling man called Bendy soulless. Bendy knew he didn’t look quite right, but he was still Bendy wasn’t he? He didn’t know why the smiling man hated him so much. Bendy spent most of his time alone, trapped in a little room. He wasn’t allowed to leave the room. If he did, the smiling man or the angry man would yell at him. Bendy didn’t like getting yelled at, so he tried to be good. Sometimes he’d watch old cartoons of him. He’d watch and put his hand on the screen, tracing the shapes of his own outline. That was the way he was supposed to look. It made him sad, seeing the way he was supposed to look and comparing it with the way he did look. He didn’t really know why he’d come out looking wrong. He would have fixed it if he’d known how to. He didn’t like making the smiling man mad. The smiling man was always smiling, but Bendy got the feeling he wasn’t very nice. He was always yelling at people, and when he wasn’t he was saying things Bendy was pretty sure weren’t true. There was a blond woman who came to the floor Bendy was on sometimes. She visited the smiling man a lot. The smiling man spoke to her in sweet tones, stroked her hair and held her close. Bendy didn’t like the look in the smiling man’s eyes when he was with the blonde woman. The smiling man looked like he was planning something.

Eventually, he was let out of the small room, but the smiling man told him not to wander around too much. Bendy tried to stay out of the places where the smiling man didn’t want him to go, but it was hard to tell what would make the smiling man angry. Bendy noticed that as time went on, the people around the studio started to go away. One day they were there, and the next they weren’t. In their place, there were inky people. Bendy wasn’t sure what the inky people were. He tried to be nice to them, though, even if he couldn’t really communicate all that well. The inky people seemed scared all the time. Bendy felt bad for them. He wished he could do something to help. Then Borises started showing up. This was exciting for Bendy. Boris was his friend! Boris was fun! Sometimes the Borises were nice, but sometimes they weren’t. Bendy was always sad when the Borises weren’t nice. He just wanted his friend. When Alice showed up, the Borises started dying. The smiling man came by one day to tell Bendy that Alice was here. Bendy was immediately excited. He and Alice sometimes butted heads, but Alice really was the best. She was always so nice and sweet and she sang the best lullabies. The smiling man took Bendy to Alice. She was singing quietly and Bendy got so excited. It was Alice! It was her! He ran over to hug her, ignoring the smiling man yelling at him to stop. Alice turned around as he got close, smiling when she saw him. He reached out to touch her face. He shouldn’t have done that. When he touched the Borises, they always seemed to melt. The same thing happened when he touched the inky people. He should have known the same thing would happen to Alice. She wasn’t the same after that.

Eventually, there were no people left. Or, at least, no normal people. It was just Bendy, Alice, Another Alice, the Other Alice’s Boris, a Boris on an upper level, a lot of inky people, and clones of the Butcher Gang. Bendy felt almost bad for the Butcher Gang. They had been villains in his cartoons, sure, but they were mostly pretty harmless. Now they barely seemed like they knew what was going on. Bendy spent most of his time just hiding in the big machine the smiling man kept on the lowest level. It was quiet there. He could watch his cartoons in peace. Bendy was sad most of the time. None of his friends wanted to be around him. It wasn’t like he could really be around them anyway. He’d just destroy their bodies with his presence. For the time being, he just watched his cartoons, hoping that someday he could go back to that. Dreams came true, right?


	30. Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brother Esther knew died a long time ago

Last day and it’s Reborn. I decided to focus on Esther and Joey’s relationship since Esther’s been on my mind lately.

This is three days late, and for that I am sorry. 

* * *

 

Most people who were friends with Esther Klein didn’t know she even had a brother. Her best friend hadn’t even known Esther had a sibling until she’d been invited to the Drew household and had seen the family portraits. She wasn’t surprised, honestly. She’d led most of her life separate from Joey. She was six years older, after all, always too old to be a proper playmate for him. She’d had expectations to meet, responsibilities to perform. By the time he’d run away from home, she’d been up to her ears in work at the law firm. Still, she remembered the day her mother had called her with cold clarity. She’d gotten home from work to find the phone ringing off the hook. She’d answered, expecting it to be a colleague from the firm who had been pursuing her relentlessly. She’d been ready to yell until she heard her mother crying on the other end. Her mother was speaking too fast, her voice clouded with tears.

“Ma, slow down,” Esther said. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

“It’s…It’s Joey.” Her mother sobbed. “He’s gone.”

“Gone…? What do you mean gone?”

“He ran away!”

Esther’s heart sank. Looking back, she felt like she should have seen it coming. Her parents had been worried about Joey, telling her about how angry he’d been getting, how he’d been drawing away from them. Looking back, she felt like she should have done something. She hadn’t been able to go back home to comfort her parents, so she tried to assuage their fears on the phone. Her heart was heavy when she hung up. She knew Joey’s mind had been set on art, but their parents had been worried he wouldn’t be able to live comfortably like that. Joey had evidently taken this to mean that they didn’t believe in him. He was always doing things like this. Always acting impulsively without any regard for the consequences. But she couldn’t force herself to be angry with him. She was terrified. She didn’t know where he’d go or what was going to happen. And that was petrifying.

She didn’t see her brother again for almost 20 years. By that point, he’d made quite a name for himself in the animation world. Joey Drew Studios. When the studio had opened, Esther had almost cried from relief. Her brother was safe and alive. And best of all, he was making cartoons like he’d wanted. She allowed herself to believe, for a time, that he was happy. But this only lasted for so long. When the rumors of bankruptcy began to circle, she paid a visit to her brother’s studio. She told no one at the office where she was going, nor did she tell Robert. But her husband knew. He always seemed to know. No one at the studio recognized her, not that she expected them to, especially since she introduced herself as Esther Klein. The employees looked nervous when she said she was a lawyer, but also resigned. She was led down to Joey’s office by a thin man with crooked glasses and dark bags under his eyes who told her he was the accountant, Grant Cohen. He assumed she was there because of the bankruptcy, and she did nothing to tell him otherwise.

“Mr. Drew, there’s someone here to see you,” Grant said when he opened the door.

“Tell them to wait.” Joey snapped. He looked to be buried under a mountain of paperwork.

“I’m not waiting.” Esther’s voice made him freeze. He looked up very slowly. Grant took one look at Joey’s face and got out, leaving the siblings alone.

“What are you doing here?” Joey’s expression was closed and guarded. There was no trace of the bright-eyed boy who had tugged on her sleeves to show her his drawings.

“I came to see you.” She replied. God, he looked so much older. She could see the beginnings of grey at his temples, mixed in with his dark brown hair. There were lines around his mouth, his eyes. He’d filled out a bit since she’d last seen him, stocky like their father. He’d grown a mustache too. It looked good. He looked like an adult. He  ** _was_** an adult. So why did she still think of him as that gangly kid?

“I figured.” Joey narrowed his eyes. “ _Why_  did you come to see me?”

“I missed you, Jojo.”

“Don’t call me that!” He stood up abruptly, slamming his hands on the desk. She didn’t flinch. She was used to his outbursts.

“I missed you.” She repeated. “Ma and Pa miss you.”

“It’s been 20 years. If you really missed me that much you would have found me sooner.”

“How?” She could feel her temper beginning to rise. “You ran away, Joey. You didn’t want to be found. You didn’t tell us where you were going, you didn’t tell us where you were staying, you didn’t even tell us you started this studio. Ma and Pa had to find out from the paper that you were even still alive.” She still remembered that news clipping her parents had sent her, the photo of Joey standing side by side with a man she didn’t recognize, looking happier than she’d seen him in years.

Joey grumbled something, sitting down. “What do you want Esther?”

She sighed, pulling out a check from her purse and placing it on the desk. Joey looked at her, then at the check, then back again.

“It’s not going to bite you.” Esther folded her arms. Joey snatched the check up, looking it over. His eyes widened.

“This…This is a lot of money.”

“It is.”

“Are you…giving it to me?”

“I am.”

For a moment, relief seemed to wash over her brother’s face. Then it was gone.

“You think I can’t do this.” He snarled, face transforming into a mask of rage.

“I think you’re having a hard time right now.” She chose her words carefully. “But I believe in you. I just want to give you a little help.” He scowled at her, then at the check.

“You changed your name.” He said. “Did you get married?”

“I did.” She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Robert.

“Do you have kids?” His anger was ebbing now, curiosity peeking through.

“You have a niece and nephew, Joey.” She pulled out a photo, handing it to him. It was a family photo of her, Robert, and their two children. Rachel scowled at the camera, displeased by the dress she’d had to wear. Isaac dozed in his mother’s arms. He’d never minded getting dressed up as long as he was being held. Joey held the photo gingerly. The children in the picture were so small. The girl looked a lot like Esther, and the boy looked like the man he assumed was Esther’s husband, but with that trademark Drew dark hair.

“What are their names?” He asked quietly.

“The girl is Rachel and the boy is Isaac.” It was hard to miss the pride on Esther’s face. He’d always known she’d make a wonderful mother. Joey felt his stomach begin to twist into knots. She was like Henry. She had a family, a good job. There was no place for him in their perfect lives.

“They’re…They’re beautiful kids.” He handed the photo back to her. Esther tucked the picture back into her purse, studying his face carefully. He looked so sad.

“I’d love for you to meet them.” She said. Joey’s eyes shifted away from her. He pursed his lips, folding his hands on the desk.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

“That’s not an answer, Joey,” Esther said flatly. “Why can’t you come to meet them?”

“There’s no place for me in your perfect life.” Joey shook his head, a touch of bitterness entering his voice. “You’re some big-shot lawyer. I’d be a disgrace if you introduced me to any of your friends.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “As if I’d ever be friends with someone who would think that of you.” The people at the firm who spoke disparagingly about Joey and his cartoons were not the kind of people she liked to associate with. Elitist assholes who looked down on her and the people she was close to.

“You’d eventually become ashamed of me.”

“Joey.”

“You’d throw me out eventually. As soon as I do something you don’t like, you’ll just pretend you’re not related to me.”

“I would never do that to you,” Esther said softly. She was honestly hurt that he thought she’d do something like that to him.

“You will.” Joey looked up at her, his expression hard and his eyes cold. “You’re just like everyone else.” Esther stared at him for a moment before her expression hardened as well.

“You want to wallow in self-pity? Fine.” She said, turning away. “But don’t come crawling back to me when this whole thing blows up in your face.”

“I don’t need your pity!” Joey stood up again, hands on his desk. “You never believed in me anyway! None of you ever did! But I’ll show you!”

“I hope you drown in ink!” She stormed out of the office and up the stairs. The employees whispered as she passed, saying something about how Joey had pissed off another lawyer. Grant shot her an apologetic look as she passed his office. She drove him, going upstairs once she returned and curling up on her bed. Robert came to join her a few minutes later.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go great.” He sat down beside her, rubbing her back.

“I don’t even recognize him anymore.” She muttered. “What happened to my brother?” She felt on the verge of tears. Esther didn’t like crying. When she’d been young, bullies had called her crying a sign of weakness. Unless she trusted someone, she didn’t want to cry in front of anyone.

“It’s going to be okay.” Robert pulled her into his lap, stroking her hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

There were many times in the years following that where Esther wondered what it would have been like if she’d been able to talk Joey down, if her children had been able to grow up with their uncle. Maybe she could have saved his employees from the fates they’d suffered. But she’d been so angry at him after that conversation at his office that she hadn’t gone back for a long time. And when she did…It was too late. Her brother had died a long time ago. In his place, there was only a monster. And Esther felt she’d helped to create that monster.


End file.
